


My Confession

by zebraljb



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando has turned into a spoiled diva who doesn't really realize what he's lost.  He journeys down a road that can only lead him back to what he's lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "My Confession," by Josh Groban.

MY CONFESSION

 

“Nah, I can’t. I’m sorry.” Orlando waved away his assistant. “I said a frozen latte,” he hissed. She blushed and nodded, leaving the dressing room.

“Look, Orli, we promised, remember? We promised that as soon as they got the thing done, we’d fly to wherever they were to celebrate,” Elijah said, frowning at his end of the phone.

“I was there, Elijah, I remember what was said.” Orlando impatiently tapped his fingers on his knee as the makeup artist finished her work. “Done?” He snapped, and the woman nodded. He stood and began to pace, long fingers clutching his cell phone. “I can’t make it. I’m getting ready to go on Leno, for fuck’s sake.”

“I realize that, Orli. It’s just…Billy and Dom would really love it if you came. You’re in L.A. anyway.”

“And I’ll be busy the whole time. I’m sorry. I’ll send them flowers or something.” He smiled at one of Leno’s crewmembers. “Look, Elijah, I have to go.”

“You’re becoming a real dick, Orlando,” Elijah said angrily. “You’re not coming because Viggo might come, and you’re too immature to deal with seeing him again.”

Orlando froze, ice running through his veins. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, bitch. You can’t handle the fact that he was the best thing that ever happened to you, and whatever you had in New Zealand should have never ended.”

“I’m going to hang up now,” Orlando growled. “And if you’re lucky, I MIGHT talk to you again after what you just said.”

“The way you’ve been acting lately, I’ll be luckier if you DON’T.” Elijah slammed his phone down.

 

Orlando flopped into the back of the limo, frown lines marring the beauty of his face. The interview had not gone well, and he knew he had come off sounding like a fluffy, brainless git. He glared out the window, watching the city pass by on the way back to his hotel. He turned back and flipped on the tiny television set provided in the back of the limo. A rerun of Entertainment Tonight was on, and while he wasn’t really interested in gossip about other celebrities, it was something to get his mind off of the interview.

“Viggo Mortensen, Aragorn in Lord of the Rings, has made a few movies since the trilogy, but not yet achieved the star status awarded to his castmate, Orlando Bloom.” Orlando’s mouth fell open. It still, after all these years, hit him right in the stomach whenever his name was mentioned anywhere near Viggo’s. The camera focused on Viggo’s tanned face. There were more lines than Orlando remembered, but there was a peace and contentment in the blue eyes that he hadn’t seen before.

“We caught up with Viggo on his Idaho ranch. Viggo hasn’t been active in the acting community for over a year, preferring instead to paint, sculpt and write out in the middle of his mountain paradise,” the voiceover continued. Orlando blinked. He had simply assumed that he and Viggo didn’t run into one another at various events because one of them or the other was off on location. He had no clue that Viggo hadn’t been working.

Viggo smiled at the unseen reporter. “This is home to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been more comfortable than I am here…except perhaps in New Zealand, for a short time. It was very easy, during filming of Rings, to feel that you had found your way home.”

“That was a great group of actors, I hear. Are you still in touch with any of them?”

“Well, I talk to Elijah Wood about once a month, and Sean Bean and I call each other every week. Bernard Hill was just out here recently for a few days…Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan are working on a screenplay, and I hope to see them once it starts to get off the ground.”

“Orlando Bloom’s career seems to have skyrocketed since filming the trilogy,” the reporter said. “What are your thoughts about him?”

Viggo visibly paused, looking up at the sky for a second. He squinted against the sun’s glare. “Well, he’s a talented young man.” Viggo scratched at the back of his head. Orlando knew that gesture; it meant Viggo was searching for words, trying to say the right thing. “He deserves everything he gets in life. He’s gonna go far.” Orlando sighed. Suddenly it felt quite lonely going so far. Viggo smiled and Orlando’s heart leapt. He was still so gorgeous. “I got to know Orlando well, while we were filming. He has a heart of gold, he’s generous, he’s smart.”

Orlando frowned and turned off the television.

 

Viggo tugged at the hair that fell along the back of his neck. “This…this is a shock, Orli.”

“I thought we both agreed that this probably wouldn’t make it past the end of filming, Vig,” Orlando said softly.

“We did.” Viggo turned and walked out of the tiny cabin they had rented. Principle photography was almost complete, and they had rented the cabin for a long weekend. Orlando followed him out onto the porch. “I just, I guess I was an idiot.”

“You? You’re the smartest guy I know, Viggo.” Orlando stood next to him, leaning on the railing.

Viggo snorted. “Not in this case. But then again, my heart never did connect right with my brain.” He looked at Orlando, the expression on his face almost painful. “I guess I hoped you’d change your mind. I know I changed mine the second your hands touched my body. I thought maybe we could…” Viggo shook his head. “Well, you’re right. We have lives outside New Zealand, and this wouldn’t work.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Viggo. I thought this was just all in fun…something to keep us going while we filmed.”

“I think you know that it’s more than “fun,” Orlando,” Viggo said, and Orlando had the decency to blush.

“Yes, I care about you, Viggo, but it’s not enough, really.”

“It would get in the way of our careers.”

“Exactly,” Orlando said eagerly. “I knew you’d understand.”

Viggo turned and placed a hand on Orlando’s face. “You’re still such a child, Orli. A little boy in a man’s body.” He kissed Orlando’s cheek. “You can stay here. I’m gonna pack up and go back.”

 

Orlando awoke with a growl, sitting straight up in bed. He hadn’t had that dream in months…the dream where he relived the moment when he had broken Viggo’s heart. He could still see the beautiful blue eyes looking at him with such infinite sadness, could still feel the last touch of Viggo’s hand on his face. He had thought that it was over, that he could move on. That dream, however, had haunted his nights for the first six months after New Zealand, and only hard work and an even harder shell around his heart had gotten Orlando through it.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, looking at his clock. His alarm wasn’t set to go off for another two hours. His cell phone rang, making him jump. “It’s too fucking early,” he said without looking at the caller ID. “You better have just dialed wrong.”

“Hello, Paris,” a familiar voice said.

“Eric?” Orlando flopped back onto his pillows, glancing at the caller ID. “It’s great to hear your voice, mate! Where are you?”

“London.”

“Did you assume I’d be up at ass o’clock in the morning, big brother?” Orlando teased.

“I was actually hoping I’d wake you up,” Eric said sternly, and Orlando actually frowned under the obvious disappointment in Eric’s voice.

“You did?”

“I have someone here who wants to talk to you. Get your head out of your ass, Orli.” Orlando heard Eric speak to someone else at his end.

“Orlando?”

“Yes?”

“I guess it’s been so long since we’ve talked that you forget the sound of my voice?”

“Hi, Beanie,” Orlando said, actually hiding under his covers. He was grateful that an ocean AND an entire continent were between them.

“I’m on a flight in a few hours,” Sean began, “I’m coming to L.A., and if you haven’t cleaned up your act by the time I get there, I’ll be cleaning Rodeo Drive with your ASS.”

“What’s your problem?” Orlando said, trying to act cold and indifferent.

“My problem is that you’ve turned into a total twat.”

Orlando sighed, trying to sound like he could care less. “Is this about Dom and Billy?”

“No. This is about you being a twat,” Sean said. “The whole thing with Dom and Billy, though, is simply icing on the cake.”

“So, tell me, Sean, why do YOU think I’m a twat. I know why Elijah thinks it, and it seems Eric now thinks so, too.”

“Elijah told me all about your conversation. Apparently you’re too good for your friends?”

“I never said that!” Orlando crawled out of his covers and sat up. “I said I was busy!”

“You’re a big enough star now that you could rearrange a few things just to make a dinner, Orlando.”

“Jealous?” Orlando snapped before he thought.

“Hardly. I’d rather have my integrity than a blockbuster, and you know it. Actually, I thought you used to feel the same way.”

“I have integrity,” Orlando protested. “Besides, it’s Elijah that’s the twat. He said I don’t want to come because of…” Orlando paused, barely able to say the name without a wave of heartache. “Because of Viggo,” he finished.

“Oh, let’s not go there, mate. You rose far above being a twat when it comes to Viggo,” Sean growled. “I’m landing at LAX at ten tonight. Be there to pick me up.”

“What?” Orlando gasped, but Sean had already hung up.

 _I have been blind, unwilling…to see the true love you’re giving…I have ignored every blessing…I’m on my knees confessing…_


	2. Chapter 2

MY CONFESSION  
Two

 

Orlando sat in LAX’s VIP lounge, hat pulled down over his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he frowned at his glass of Guinness. Fucking Bean…ordering him around, telling him to pick him up or else. Hadn’t Orlando been up since the asscrack of dawn, thanks to Eric and his stupid intervention? Orlando pointedly ignored the fact that he had been awake anyway, thanks to the old dream about Viggo.

The day had only gone downhill after the phone call. His interviews had NOT gone well, and even a shopping trip to his favorite store on Rodeo Drive hadn’t done the usual job of cheering him up. He kept hearing Sean threatening to kick his ass as he walked through the store.

He heard the announcement that Sean’s flight had arrived, but made no effort to get up. If he was lucky, Sean would think that he had forgotten, or had refused to come, which is what Orlando SHOULD have done. He still wasn’t sure why he had obeyed. Sean was an old man. Orlando could easily kick his ass any day. He continued to brood as he stared at his beer.

“Elf,” the familiar voice said. Orlando sighed and looked up. Sean Bean stood before him, wearing blue jeans and a green sweater. The normally cheerful eyes were grey and dark.

“Hello, Sean.” Orlando held out his hand, and Sean stared at it for a long moment before finally shaking it. Orlando would normally hug Sean, but the look on Sean’s face did not encourage an embrace. “My car’s in the side parking lot. Any bags?”

“Just this.” Sean shouldered his large duffel. “I’m not planning on staying long, and I travel light.”

“You always did,” Orlando said with a smile, which Sean didn’t return. Orlando sighed and led the way to the parking lot.

Sean snorted when he saw the chauffeur-driven car in the lot. “Shoulda known.”

“What?” Orlando blinked. “I don’t keep a car here.”

“Ever heard of rental?” Sean threw his bag into the trunk and slid into the backseat. Orlando flopped down next to him, saying nothing the entire ride to his hotel. Sean thanked the driver as they climbed out.

Orlando still said nothing until they reached his hotel room. “Do you even have a room here?”

“Not yet…thought I could bunk with you.” Sean looked around the large suite. “Sofa looks comfy.”

“There’s an extra bedroom, you git,” Orlando growled. “Okay, so I picked you up, brought you someplace to stay…go ahead. Tear me a new one.”

Sean let his duffel fall to the ground. He walked around the suite, touching knickknacks, staring at painting. “What’s this running you?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Orlando faked a yawn. “Look, I’ve been up since…”

“It didn’t used to matter,” Sean interrupted. He walked over to stand in front of Orlando, arms folded over his chest. “I remember a skinny elf who could dance until three and be on set by five.”

“I’m older now,” Orlando said, and winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Sean snorted with laughter.

“Yeah, you’re ancient. Too bad you haven’t matured with age.”

“Look, Sean, I don’t need you here insulting me. I offered you a place to stay while you visit everyone. I just…”

“What you NEED is a good kick in the bollocks,” Sean snapped. “You’ve turned into a thoughtless, selfish fool, just because someone said you could act, liked your pretty face, and gave you some choice roles. You gave up the best thing that ever happened to you, just because it didn’t figure into your plans for the future.”

“Look, Beanie, not that it’s any of your business, but Viggo and I…”

“Funny, I don’t remember mentioning Viggo,” Sean said, and Orlando’s mouth snapped shut. “What I meant was the friends you made there, the fellowship. You have a family…well…had a family that you could fall back on, no matter what. A group of people who knew everything you were going through, who could sympathize. But no, you tossed us all without looking back.”

“I did not!” Orlando protested. Sean smiled at him, but it was a cold smile.

“When was the last time you called me, Orlando? I haven’t talked to you since Troy. When did you last talk to Dom, or Billy, or any of the rest of them?”

“We talk,” Orlando said defensively.

“When you run into them at a party. You pose for the cameras and move on without a thought.” Sean shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Orlando, damned disappointed in you.”

“So?” Orlando said arrogantly, though his heart sank into his stomach.

Sean threw up his hands. “Whatever. Obviously there’s no getting through to you.” Sean picked up his bag. “Thanks for the place to stay. I’ll make sure to be out of your hair during the day. I’m sure you’re busy,” Sean said sarcastically, striding into the guest room and slamming the door.

Orlando made his way around the suite, turning off lights and making sure the door was locked. He took a shower in his private bathroom, dried himself off with the plush towels supplied by the hotel, and climbed into a bed made with 300-count Egyptian sheets. He shoved his head under his pillow and tried not to hear Sean’s voice. “I’m disappointed in you, Orlando.”

 

Orlando had a free morning, and didn’t climb out of bed until after eleven. He padded out into the kitchen area, wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms. He put the tea kettle on and turned to the refrigerator. The black surface of the appliance was marred only by a small piece of paper. _We’re meeting at Billy’s hotel suite at six. He’s at the Le Meridien. It’d be good if you would come. You’d be one step down from twatdom…Bean._


	3. Chapter 3

MY CONFESSION  
Three

 

“Get you a drink, Bean?” Billy clapped him on the back.

“Beer’s fine,” Sean said vaguely, eyes on the door. Billy nodded and went to the large kitchen.

“He probably won’t come, you know,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Sean’s shoulder.

“He looked old,” Sean said suddenly. “In his eyes. There was something…worn down.”

“Don’t take his side, Beanie,” Elijah said savagely. “He’s a selfish git who doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

“Been hanging around those two, have you?” Sean nodded to Billy and Dom, who were currently fighting to get a cork from a bottle of wine. “Talking Brit and all.”

Elijah ignored the teasing remark. “Orli’s gone, Bean. All that’s left now is “Orlando” walking around in Orli’s body.”

“You’ve given up on him, then?”

“He’s given up on us, Sean.” Elijah’s large eyes were sad as he turned to sit by Viggo on the sofa. “Astin sends his love,” Elijah called out to Billy and Dom. “Christine’s due any day now…he couldn’t make the trip.”

“What’s this now? Four kids?” Billy handed Sean his beer.

“Yeah…but they know this one’s a boy, finally,” Elijah said with a fond smile. “I bet he turns that house on its ear.”

“Definitely,” Sean agreed, holding up his beer in a silent toast to the expecting couple.

“So…what’s for dinner?” Viggo asked, speaking up for the first time. “You two didn’t cook, did you?”

“That was AGES ago, Vig. I’m much better now,” Billy said quickly.

“Besides, it wasn’t THAT bad,” Dom added loyally.

Sean snorted. “You almost burned Viggo’s house down.”

“Not to mention almost burning his hair off,” Elijah added.

Dom shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

“To YOU, maybe,” Viggo said, reaching up to pat at his hair. “I like it where it is.”

“Anyway, the caterer’s setting up now in the dining room.” Dom pointed down a hall. “God…dining room. Never thought I’d have a whole suite with a DINING ROOM.”

“And you’ll have much more, once someone buys the screenplay and makes it into an award winning movie,” Viggo said, holding up his glass of wine.

“Let’s just hope it gets bought first,” Billy said nervously. “No use counting chickens and all that.”

“Speaking of chickens, I’m starving. I’ll check on dinner.” Dom darted down the hallway.

“He’s scared to death, isn’t he?” Elijah asked Billy, who nodded.

“Off his arse. We both are.”

“Well, you two were fairly good actors. You can always fall back on that,” Sean teased.

“Oi! Better than fairly good,” Billy protested.

“Dinner is served, gentlemen,” Dominic said, returning to the room and bowing.

“Idiot,” Elijah said affectionately, rubbing at Dom’s hair as he walked by.

The men filed into the dining room, bringing their drinks with them. Viggo put his glass on the table. “Forgot to wash my hands. Bathroom?”

“Off the kitchen to the left,” Dom said. “This place has three of them, believe it or not.”

“With phones,” Billy added.

“If either of you ever call me from the loo, I’ll kill you,” Sean promised.

“Okay,” Billy said, grinning from ear to ear. It was obvious that he was waiting to find a time to do just that.

“You guys can go ahead and start without me,” Viggo said, looking at the steaming food on the table. “Looks too good to wait.”

“Better hurry. We’re hungry,” Elijah said, whipping his napkin open and dropping it onto his laugh.

“Pigs,” Viggo said, shaking his head. He went to the bathroom and washed his hands. As he passed back through the main room of the suite, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get that,” he called towards the dining room.

 

Orlando’s day was the longest he could remember, even longer than the days and nights filming at Helm’s Deep. He went to a few script meetings after lunch, and then had nothing planned all day. His agent called, but he didn’t answer, recognizing her number on his phone. He wanted to be left alone, to think about things.

He tried not to think about Viggo, but that was virtually impossible. As if the Entertainment Tonight interview wasn’t bad enough, the calls from Elijah and Bean had brought Viggo to the forefront of his mind. Orlando wondered if he’d ever be able to see or talk to one of the Fellowship without immediately thinking of Viggo. Maybe that was why he had avoided everyone. He knew that they felt he was to blame for the “break-up,” though Viggo had agreed to it. Viggo had understood. Hadn’t he?

Orlando walked through the town in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, wearing a floppy hat that covered his face. No one bothered him, and it was a nice change. Natives of the city were used to celebrities walking their streets, and he made sure to stay away from the more touristy areas. He tried to keep his mind on other things, but he kept coming back to the fact that members of his old group of friends were probably together, at that very moment, having a wonderful time, and here he was, strolling around on his own. Would they welcome him if he knocked on the door? Probably not. Elijah had made it perfectly clear that he, at least, thought Orlando was a Class A Asshole…which didn’t put Elijah high on Orlando’s list, either.

Orlando was debating on what to do when he realized he was standing in front of a hotel. Le Meridien…Dom’s hotel. He took a deep breath and went to the door. The doorman swung it open with a respectful good evening. Orlando made sure to nod and smile at the man. He wasn’t an asshole.

He stopped at the front desk, gave his name, and asked for Dom’s room number. He smiled slightly when he heard that Dom was in one of the suites. “May I call up to announce you, Mr. Bloom?” The clerk asked.

“Uh, no, thank you,” Orlando said quickly, imagining how quickly Elijah would lock and bar the door. “It’s a surprise. Thank you, though.”

He went to the elevator and got in. Thankfully the car was empty, save himself. He argued with himself the entire ride up, trying to talk himself out of the idea. It was crazy. They hated him, obviously. But Orlando wanted to be there. He wanted to be part of a family again. Bean had been right. He was missing out on something big.

Orlando took a deep breath as the elevator opened into the lobby outside the penthouse. He paused, trying to keep his hand from shaking as he pushed the doorbell. He bit his lip and stared at his feet as he waited.

 

Viggo looked through the peephole, but could only see the top of a large hat. He opened the door cautiously. The hat tipped up and Viggo’s eyes widened as he looked into the familiar face. “H-hello, Orlando.”

 

Electricity shot through every inch of Orlando’s body as he saw Viggo on the other side of the door. Orlando swallowed, a lump the size of South America making the process quite difficult. Viggo’s beautiful blue eyes widened at the sight of him, and Orlando was calmed ever-so-slightly by the stammer in Viggo’s voice.

“Viggo. Hello. How’ve you been? Bean invited me,” Orlando added, realizing he was babbling. “I should go.”

“No, come in. I know Billy and Dom will be excited that you’re here.” Viggo stepped aside and let him in.

Orlando slowly entered the suite, smiling at its opulence. “Viggo, who…” Billy’s eyes grew huge as he stopped for a second. “Orli!” He yelled, running and jumping on Orlando. “God, mate, you made it. We didn’t think…” Billy interrupted himself and gave Orlando a huge hug. Dom ran down the hall with a yell, and also jumped onto Orlando.

Orlando laughed as he welcomed the embraces, looking over Dom’s shoulder at Viggo, who leaned against the door with an easy grace. He looked older than he had on the television, with crinkles at his eyes and around his mouth. His body was still muscular and toned, however, and his hair did not seem any greyer than the last time Orlando had seen him. He was still one of the only things on the planet that could make Orlando’s heart skip a beat.

 _I’m on my knees confessing…that I feel myself surrender each time I see your face…I am staggered by your beauty, your unassuming grace…and I feel my heart is turning, falling into place…I can’t hide, now hear my confession…_


	4. Chapter 4

MY CONFESSION  
Four

 

“We were just getting ready to eat,” Billy said, reaching up to ruffle Orlando’s curls. “Great timing.”

Elijah leaned against the wall back in the hallway. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Will wonders never cease?”

Orlando stared at him, but simply said, “Hello, Elijah. Good to see you again.”

Elijah snorted and headed back to the dining room. Sean came forward to hug Orlando. “Good start,” he whispered in Orlando’s ear. He took Orlando by the arm and led him to the dining room. Billy and Dom chattered behind them, and Orlando could feel Viggo’s eyes on him as Viggo brought up the rear.

Sean showed Orlando a seat at the end of the rectangular table that sat twelve with the leaf added, but it was set for six. Sean sat on Orlando’s right, with Billy on Sean’s other side. Elijah sat across from Billy, obviously as far away from Orlando as he could get. Dom flopped down next to Elijah, which left one seat for Viggo: directly across from Orlando. Orlando gave Viggo a nervous smile and stared at his plate.

Sean nudged him and handed him a bowl of steaming vegetables. “Wake up,” Sean teased.

“C’mon, Beanie. You know that Orlando’s used to having someone serve him,” Elijah said. “You might as well cut everything up for him, too.”

Orlando opened his mouth to retort, glaring at Elijah. Viggo quickly said, “So, Dom, what’s happening next for you guys?” Orlando sent Viggo a grateful smile.

“Well, we have a few meetings set up for next week, at the studios,” Dom began.

“We’ve called in every favor we could,” Billy interrupted. “Kissed major ass.”

“Which both of you are quite good at,” Sean pointed out. “After all the practical jokes you two pulled, you HAVE to learn to grovel.”

Billy spit out his wine as he laughed. “Do you remember the time…”

“When we did the…” Dom added.

“With the shaving cream?” They finished together, bursting into giggles.

Orlando stared at them as Elijah began to chuckle as well. Sean glared at the three hobbits. “Uh, what are you talking about?”

“You know, when we took the shaving cream to Sean’s apartment? C’mon, Orli,” Billy protested. “You have to remember that.”

“I’m sure he’s blocked all those memories,” Elijah said smugly.

“Elijah,” Sean said with a warning glance.

“No, he wouldn’t remember it,” Viggo said softly, saving the day yet again. “We…we were away that weekend. I remember Sean telling me he wished I’d have been there to help him get you back.” He looked at Orlando, who immediately remembered every second of that weekend.

Orlando flushed miserably and poked a piece of broccoli with his fork. It was going to be a long night. He chewed, swallowed, and vowed not to let Elijah get to him. “So, Bills, if you need me to make any calls or anything, I’d be glad to do it. I have some connections, you know, and…”

“Yeah, we know,” Elijah muttered.

“Elijah, fuck off,” Orlando said, smiling pleasantly. He turned to Billy and Dominic. “Really…anything I can do. I really want you guys to do well. I know it’s probably a great screenplay.”

Dominic smiled politely. “You’ve read it, right? We sent you a copy as soon as we had it made.”

Orlando blinked. “You did? Uh, where did you send it?”

“To the Plymouth Road address,” Billy said.

“Oh.” Orlando put down his fork. “I…I haven’t lived there in about three months.”

Now it was Dominic’s turn to choke. “You moved three months ago?”

“Well, it was actually too big for me, since I’m hardly in London anymore,” Orlando pointed out.

“I thought you’d want a bigger place,” Elijah said. “For your ego and all.”

Orlando kicked back his chair. “Elijah, please allow me to once more tell you to fuck off. I knew you all wouldn’t want me here, but Sean asked, so I came. I really do hope you guys have all the luck in the world, but I am not gonna sit here and take this.” He tossed his napkin down.

Elijah jumped to his feet as well. “I remember a time when you welcomed your friends telling you exactly what they thought of you, Orlando.”

“Yeah, well, that was when my friends did it because they were concerned about me. NOT because they wanted to embarrass me in front of other people.” Orlando put a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “Good luck.” He turned on one heel and headed for the door.

He heard Billy begin to tear Elijah a new asshole and smiled grimly on his way to the door. “Orlando,” a voice said behind him. Orlando froze and slowly turned around.

“Viggo. Hey.”

“Don’t go,” Viggo said, jamming his fists into the pockets of his jeans.

Orlando blinked. “Uh, what?”

“Don’t go,” Viggo repeated. “Elijah’s just a jerk. Don’t let him chase you out of here.”

Orlando laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just…I never thought you’d be the one to defend me.”

“I’m not, really…just taking the right side.”

“You always did do the right thing,” Orlando said softly.

“I’ve never stopped being your friend, Orlando. None of us have.”

“I’d think again about that, Vig,” Orlando said, fidgeting nervously.

“Stay,” Viggo said. “We all want you to. Elijah, too, though he doesn’t know it. Let down your walls and be our Orli.”

I want to be YOUR Orli, Orlando thought, but simply said, “Okay. But I am not responsible if I kick his ass.”

“I’ll hold him down for you if he says one more thing,” Viggo promised, and Orlando laughed a genuine laugh. He followed Viggo back down the hall, where they bumped into Elijah. Viggo raised an eyebrow at Orlando and went into the dining room.

“I’m sorry for not giving you a decent chance,” Elijah muttered. Orlando crossed his arms over his chest. “But you’ve been a total asswipe this last year or so, and I for one am not gonna immediately forgive you for that.”

“I think you’re being an asswipe yourself, but you don’t see ME being a prick to YOU,” Orlando pointed out.

“Hey, I made an effort to fucking talk to you, Orlando. It’s not my fault that you change your address, change your number, practically change your fucking name,” Elijah hissed. “And if you even thinking of hurting Viggo again, I will kick your ass so fucking hard you’ll feel it in the nerves of your teeth.” Elijah darted back into the dining room without another word.

Orlando silently followed him into the room and took his seat. “So…is elementary school over now?” Sean asked. “Are we going to act like grownups?”

“Not if you keep referring to everyone in first person plural,” Viggo said, and everyone laughed.

Conversation was light over the rest of the meal, though Orlando didn’t participate much. He was busy trying to watch Viggo without making it obvious. Viggo looked rested and content, and Orlando had never thought he was more handsome or sexy than at that very moment. Viggo laughed a lot, smiled even more, and seemed happier than Orlando could remember. Orlando couldn’t remember the last time HE had smiled and laughed through an entire conversation…at least not sincere smiles and laughter.

“So, Orli,” Billy said, and Orlando snapped out of his reverie. “We actually have a part we wrote with you in mind. Care to take it?”

Orlando blinked. “Well, I’d have to talk about it with my agent, but I could at least read for it.” The table was silent. “Um, but I’d like to see it.”

“Well, that’s fine, you know, if that’s what you want.” Dominic played with his silverware. “I mean, we’re going in there with a few ultimatums, things we refuse to change. We, uh…”

“We’ll rewrite it for someone else,” Billy said finally.

“Guys, no. That’s not necessary. I’m sure I could…”

“Find the time to do it?” Sean said quietly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Orlando said angrily. How could something so simple get so blown out of proportion? “I’d be happy to read for it. That’s what I’m saying.”

“And what we’re saying is that you don’t have to.” Billy’s eyes were sad. “We fucking wrote the part for YOU, Orlando. No one else could come close to what we want. You’re it.”

Orlando began to speak, then looked at Elijah. “Don’t you want to bitch at me?”

“No.” Elijah’s eyes were emotionless. “I said I’d give you a chance, and I’m eagerly waiting to see how you bullshit yourself out of this one.”

“Elijah,” Viggo began. “Don’t.”

“No, Vig.” Orlando held up a hand. “I can defend myself.” He stood so he could see both Billy and Dominic. “Robin approves everything I do.” He blushed crimson. “It’s, uh, kinda like an unwritten part of our working relationship. If I went ahead and did something without her knowing, I’d get an earful for a year. It’s not that I don’t want to, I swear.”

“Oh.” Elijah nodded. “No wonder you’re so comfortable letting other people do everything for you. You don’t even get your own work.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“It’s starting to sound that way, mate,” Sean said. “Don’t you think you should start acting like an adult and taking responsibility for your life and your work?”

“She’s been good to me so far,” Orlando said angrily. “Look at the movies I’ve done, and the money I’ve made!”

“And if you did it on your own?” Viggo asked.

“I’d probably be lucky to get a part in some indie arthouse piece of crap that about five people would see,” Orlando said.

Viggo smiled wistfully. “The last movie I did wasn’t even released outside of Idaho,” he said. “I think maybe five hundred people saw it. It’s the work I’m most proud of, out of everything I’ve done.”

Orlando wanted to bang his head on the table. “You don’t understand. None of you do.”

“I think we understand perfectly,” Elijah said, and this time no one stood up for Orlando.

“I do, too.” Orlando looked around at the men sitting at the table, his heart filling with fear and anger and sorrow and even jealousy. “I get it. You’re all just jealous. Whatever. I’m outta here.” He kicked his chair back, left the dining room and no one followed him.


	5. Chapter 5

MY CONFESSION  
Five

 

 _I have been wrong about you…thought I was strong without you…for so long nothing could move me…for so long nothing could change me…_

 

Orlando did not sleep well that night. He listened all night for Sean’s return to the hotel room, but he finally fell asleep around three without hearing a sound. When he got up at eight, feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all, he wandered out into the living room and saw that Sean’s things were gone. Orlando sighed; knowing he had fucked up yet believing it really wasn’t his fault. They didn’t understand.

He stumbled to the kitchen and found yet another note on the fridge. _“Well done, mate. You sure know how to make friends and influence people. I saw myself out. Have a nice life. Bean.”_

 

“And then we have a conference call at Paramount around seven,” Robin said, and Orlando could hear her flip through her ever-present calendar. “I told them it would have to be quick; you have that black tie dinner at nine and even you, with your perfect everything, need time to gussy yourself up.”

“Fine,” Orlando said, propping his cell phone against his shoulder as he dug for his own calendar. He knew that many actors had Palm Pilots and Blackberries and other electronic ways of organizing their lives, but Orlando preferred a piece of paper and a pencil to batteries and a touch screen any day. It was something he had picked up from Viggo.

Viggo. Orlando glanced out of the limo’s tinted window and saw Viggo. Viggo’s name, actually, on the front of a store window. “A Study of Life: Paintings, Photography and Sculpture by Viggo Mortensen,” Orlando read out loud.

“What, Orlando? Did you get a script I don’t know about?” Robin snapped.

“Stop.” Orlando rapped on the glass separation between the back and front of the limo. “Stop the fucking car!”

“Orlando, what the hell…”

“I’ll call you back, Robin.” He snapped his phone shut and opened the back door as soon as the car rolled to a stop. He jammed his hat over his curls and hurried to the window with Viggo’s name on it.

“A Study of Life: Paintings, Photography and Sculpture by Viggo Mortensen.” On display at the Rose Gallery this week only,” Orlando read. “Hmm…didn’t know Viggo sculpted, too.” He thought for a moment. He was in town for the next three nights, and all three were booked by Robin. “Fuck,” he murmured, rubbing at his forehead as he returned to the car. Not that he wanted to see Viggo anyway.

Right?

 

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Orlando said, nodding to the secretary. She hung up the phone and everyone at the table looked at each other expectantly.

“We’re really looking forward to working with you, Mr. Bloom,” one of the producers said, reaching out to shake Orlando’s hand. “I’ll have the paperwork sent to your manager.”

“Actually,” Orlando said, “that won’t be necessary. Would you be able to fax it to me at my hotel? I’m in the area for the next few days…I’d be able to look it over immediately.”

The producers looked at each other. “Of course, Mr. Bloom…if that is what you’d like us to do. Usually we send…”

“I really don’t care what you usually do,” Orlando said arrogantly. “I’ll have the hotel manager call over with the number.”

“Very well,” the producer sighed. Orlando shook hands all around and strode out of the office. It was eight o’clock, and he was due to the black tie charity dinner at nine.

His driver was waiting out front, and he hopped in the back of the car. It sped to his hotel, and as the car pulled up to the curb the driver said, “I’ll be back in an hour, Mr. Bloom, to take you to the restaurant.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Orlando said, climbing out. The driver started to pull the car out of the valet lane, Orlando standing and staring after it. “WAIT!” Orlando yelled, running up and slapping the trunk lid. The hotel’s doormen stared at him as the tires screeched to a stop.

“Yes, Mr. Bloom?” The driver threw the car into park and yanked the door open.

“It’s not necessary. The car, I mean,” Orlando said.

“Sir?”

“I’ll get a ride. Myself. I’ll get there myself.” Orlando ran a hand through his curls. “I won’t need you again tonight. Have a good evening.”

“If that’s what you wish, Mr. Bloom. Have a good evening as well.” The driver was visibly relieved as he climbed back into the car and drove away.

The doorman held the door open upon Orlando’s approach. “Is there a problem, Mr. Bloom?”

“No,” Orlando said, stress starting to flow off his shoulders. “Not at all.”

“Mr. Bloom?” A hotel clerk hurried over. “A confidential fax for you. Also, the tailor called. Your tuxedo for the event has been delivered to your room.” She held out a small stack of paper.

“Thank you…Rebecca,” Orlando said, reading her nametag. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Of course,” she said, enthralled.

“I’m starving. Could you have a salad brought up? Along with some mineral water?”

“I thought you were going to a dinner…” she began, then caught herself. “None of my business. Of course, Mr. Bloom.”

“You heard about the charity event?” Orlando stopped walking.

“Everyone in town’s heard about that,” the clerk said, shrugging. “I’m just grateful it’s not in our hotel. It’s a real pain in the ass when…” she stopped herself and blushed.

“Stuck up celebrities keep you at their beck and call?” Orlando finished for her, blushing slightly himself.

“Uh…” Rebecca said, unsure of what to say. “It is nice to have all the famous people come through. I mean, I’ve lived in California all my life, right around this area, and I still feel myself starstruck now and then.” Orlando laughed and she realized how stupid she sounded. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bloom. Please go on up and I’ll have your salad brought up in a moment.”

“Won’t you bring it up yourself?” Orlando asked with a charming smile.

“If…if you want,” Rebecca said nervously.

“I do. See you shortly.” Orlando turned on his heel, leaving the young woman to stare after him.

 

Rebecca knocked on Orlando’s door about twenty minutes later. “Hello, Rebecca. Thank you so much. I’m famished.” Orlando answered the door in a pair of black dress pants and a black wifebeater. “Please come in.”

“Where would you like this?” She shyly held up the tray.

“Anywhere,” Orlando said, giving a vague wave as he returned to the bedroom. She set the tray down on the closest flat surface. “So…what time are you off tonight, Rebecca?” He called.

“Uh, about eight-thirty,” she said.

“Good.” Orlando returned wearing a dark blue shirt over the wifebeater. “Here.”

Rebecca stared at the envelope in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Look and see,” he said impatiently. “I wonder where my black shoes are.” He returned to the bedroom.

Rebecca opened the envelope and found two tickets and security passes for the charity dinner. “Mr. Bloom…”

“Found them,” Orlando said triumphantly, returning to the living room with his shoes in one hand and a garment bag in the other. “I won’t be needing this.” He handed the bag to her. “Please return it with my thanks.”

“I’m not sure…”

“I won’t be going to the dinner. I see no reason to waste the tickets. I think it will be a good place to stargaze, don’t you?” He asked with a grin.

“You’re not giving these to me,” she stated, shocked.

“I think I am. Do you have a nice dress? Could you get a date?”

“I live with my boyfriend. He’s off tonight,” she said absently. “Mr. Bloom…”

“Take them and go. You’ll be late, and I have someplace to be,” he said.

“I…thank you. Thank you so much,” she whispered. “Good night, Mr. Bloom. I told them you weren’t that…good night,” she finished, darting back out the door.

Orlando sighed, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and left the suite as well.


	6. Chapter 6

MY CONFESSION  
Six

 

Orlando ignored the doorman, who seemed surprised to see him in regular dressy street clothes. “May I call for a car, Mr. Bloom?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be going in a cab.” Orlando went to the closest taxi without another word. He slid into the backseat. “The Rose Art Gallery, please.”

“You got it.” The cabbie pulled out of the hotel driveway as Orlando glanced down at the fax from the production people. He skimmed it first, then read it more carefully as the cab pulled through a bit of traffic. Orlando frowned. Was that really how much he was asking for a picture now? It shamed him to realize that he wasn’t even sure if it was right…if it was too much, or not enough. He flipped to the end of the fax, where a final treatment of the main storyline was attached. He sighed. The usual. A period piece where he swung in, saved the girl and fought the bad guys. Exactly what he had expected, and what they had told him in the meeting. Orlando rubbed at his forehead. Maybe he wanted to BE the bad guy for once.

“Here ya are, kid,” the driver said, obviously not recognizing him. Orlando smiled. It was kind of nice not to be kowtowed to ALL the time. Orlando handed him a twenty, telling him to keep the change. The driver’s eyes widened at the generous tip. Orlando got out of the cab, folding the fax and shoving into his jacket’s inside pocket. He looked at the art gallery, took a deep breath, and went inside.

“Good evening, Sir,” a gallery employee said, handing him a small leaflet. Orlando smiled, nodded, and moved aside, glancing down at the paper in his hand. It gave a small biography on Viggo, as well as a description of some of the paintings and photos. He put the leaflet with his fax and walked towards a few paintings. His hands itched to touch, remembering how sexy Viggo would look while immersed in his art. One particular painting caught his eye, maroon and emerald mixing with beige and brown. The title made Orlando tremble slightly. The Gift Box.

 

“Vig.” Orlando leaned in the doorway of Viggo’s studio, holding a steaming mug of tea.

“Hmm?” Viggo said, taking a step back and eyeing the canvas.

“It’s eight o’clock.”

“Uh-hm.” Viggo painted a bit, then leaned forward to squint at the color.

“You promised me you’d come out to dinner at seven.”

“Right.” Viggo shook his head and picked up a rag. He dabbed a bit, then smiled in satisfaction. “What do you need, Orlando?”

“You. Like an hour ago.”

Viggo finally turned around and looked at Orlando. Orlando stood in the doorway; naked as the day he was born. “Oh. Well. Yes.” Viggo put down his palette and looked at Orlando. “You put any other piece of art to shame.”

Orlando blushed as he sauntered over. “I thought I should do something to get your full attention.” He put the mug down on a small table.

“Well, you succeeded.” Viggo started to put his hands on Orlando’s waist, then stopped, staring at the color on his palms. “Sorry.”

“I don’t care.” Orlando took Viggo’s paint-spattered hands and put them on his slender hips. “Let me be your canvas,” he said huskily, putting his own hands on Viggo’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” Viggo murmured, thumbs caressing Orlando’s skin. “You never cease to amaze me, Elf. I think I have you figured out, then you do something else to surprise me. You’re like one of those gifts that you keep unwrapping to find another box you must open.”

“Do you like what’s inside?” Orlando asked slyly, fingers reaching up to twine in Viggo’s hair.

“I like every part, inside AND out,” Viggo said, hands reaching down to grab Orlando by the backside. Orlando gasped and grinned, looking around the small studio.

“Not exactly a comfy flat surface in here, mate.”

Viggo gave Orlando a gentle push, moving him out of the way. He picked up the easel, moved it as well, and kicked a few things to the side. “Your tender ass should be comfy here.”

Orlando lay down in the middle of the tarp on the floor, ignoring the fact that his dark skin would soon be stained with paint. “Mmm…I was kinda hoping that when you were done with me, my ass would be anything but tender.” He stretched his long body out and smiled at Viggo.

“Fuck but you undo me,” Viggo growled, kicking off his sandals and reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

“Unbutton them but leave it on,” Orlando said. “Get rid of the rest.”

“Demanding for a bottom,” Viggo remarked, but did as Orlando asked. Viggo soon knelt over Orlando, knees on either side of Orlando’s body.

“I like the way it frames your skin,” Orlando said, running his hand up across Viggo’s strong chest.

“My artistic tendencies are rubbing off on you,” Viggo observed with a smile. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring supplies with you.”

“And just where would I be keeping them?” Orlando asked with a laugh. “I didn’t come prepared, but I AM prepared. Check your cabinet.”

Viggo gave him an odd look, then got up to look in his supply cabinet. He grinned when he saw a box of twelve condoms and a large bottle of lube. “Were you looking to seduce me in here?”

Orlando snorted. “Like I have to seduce you, slut. I just…had a fantasy.”

“Really?” Viggo raised an eyebrow as he returned to the tarp.

“Yes. I wanted you to paint me as you fucked me.” Orlando blinked up at him innocently, smiling as he saw Viggo’s already hard cock seem to visibly throb.

“You’re the slut, Elf.” Viggo sheathed himself with a condom, hoping that he could bring himself to prepare Orlando before taking him. Orlando seemed to always find a new way of driving him crazy with desire. He picked up the lube and knelt down between Orlando’s spread legs.

“No need.” Orlando took the lube and tossed it a few yards away. “I took care of that already.”

“Fuck,” Viggo gasped as Orlando grabbed him by the waist. Orlando’s slender legs wrapped around him as Viggo moved inside. Orlando’s palms slapped the tarp, then came up to run over Viggo’s chest and abdomen. Beige streaks soon lined the smooth skin. “Thought I was supposed to paint you.”

“Well, you weren’t doing it, so I thought I’d inspire you,” Orlando gasped, head falling back as Viggo hit just the right spot.

Viggo propped himself up on one elbow as the other hand slid across the tarp, bringing dark red fingers up to trace around Orlando’s nipples. “You’re inspiration to me no matter what,” he whispered in Orlando’s ear.

“God, Viggo…” Orlando gasped, his heels digging into the backs of Viggo’s thighs and leaving marks of green paint.

“Every day with you is a mystery, and every day I learn something new to intrigue me,” Viggo continued to whisper. His tongue licked Orlando’s earlobe before he bit down gently on the soft skin.

“Fuck,” Orlando moaned, teeth chattering as Viggo continued to pound against the very tender spot that he always found immediately. “I’m gonna cum…without a fucking finger on my cock…Viggo…”

Viggo’s large palm smeared red paint over Orlando’s stomach. “Go ahead…paint yourself, Orlando.” Viggo bit down on Orlando’s shoulder, causing him to cry out as he came. White liquid soon ran into the red paint.

“God…you’re a kinky bastard,” Orlando gasped, half sobbing, half laughing.

Viggo clutched at Orlando’s shoulders, thrusting a few more times before bringing himself to completion. “You do bring out the best in me,” he panted.

Orlando’s fingers threaded through Viggo’s hair as they both began to relax, neither one attempting to get up.

 

“Sir? Sir?” A gentle hand tugged at Orlando’s sleeve.

“What?” Orlando unhappily snapped out of his memories.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Another gallery employee asked.

“How much for this?” Orlando nodded at the painting in front of him.

“Well, it’s display only, Sir. The artist doesn’t wish to sell it.”

“I’ll pay whatever he asks. Anything.” Orlando looked at another painting about the same size. “How much is that one?”

“Well, it’s tagged at seven hundred dollars.”

“I’ll pay a thousand for this one. Or more. Whatever he asks,” Orlando repeated.

“Well, I’ll ask, Sir, but he was pretty adamant about not selling this,” she said nervously.

“Is the artist here?”

“I believe so. Would you like to speak with him?”

“No, thank you. I should be going.” Orlando looked around a bit frantically. “I’ll stop by the door and leave my name.” He walked away before she could say anything, suddenly feeling a bit claustrophobic.

“Orlando?” The soft familiar voice stopped Orlando dead in his tracks. Orlando slowly turned around.

“Viggo. Hi. Congratulations. On the show, I mean. It’s…wow. Amazing,” Orlando babbled.

“Thank you, but…didn’t you have a thing tonight? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see your work…support you,” Orlando said. “The dinner. Oh, yeah. Well, I wasn’t interested. Not feeling so charitable tonight.”

“It seems like that’s a normal occurrence for you nowadays,” Viggo said, and Orlando had the grace to blush. Viggo looked gorgeous as usual, wearing a pair of blue jeans, a red shirt and a grey blazer.

“I drove by here the other day and saw your name. I thought I’d stop by,” Orlando said softly. “I’m proud of you, Viggo.”

“That means a lot to me, Orli,” Viggo replied, his eyes never leaving Orlando’s face.

“Excuse me, Mr. Mortensen, there is a young man who wishes to buy one of your items that you said isn’t for sale,” a woman’s voice said behind Viggo. Viggo turned to see the employee who had talked to Orlando. “Oh, excuse me. Here he is.”

“Thank you,” Viggo said, turning back to Orlando. “You wanted to buy something?”

Orlando was embarrassed. “Not if you don’t want to sell it,” he said, shrugging.

“Which one?”

“The one about a box or something?” Orlando said vaguely. As usual, Viggo saw right through him.

“I wondered if someday you’d get to see that one,” Viggo said. “The colors…they pounded at my mind until I could get them out.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Orlando said honestly.

“It’s the only way I could get past…after everything…it helped,” Viggo said, actually stammering.

“I see,” Orlando said, hanging his head guiltily. “Well, I should let you get back to your adoring public,” he finally said with a smile. “I…”

“Go out for a drink with me,” Viggo said suddenly. Orlando blinked. “If you don’t have something going on. I should be out of here by eleven.”

“I don’t have anything going on at eleven o’clock, Viggo,” Orlando said. “That’s a little late.”

“Well, you’re always out places and seen with people all hours of the day,” Viggo said. “I didn’t know if you’d…”

“I’ll be back here at ten forty-five,” Orlando interrupted, feeling a strange nausea rumble through his stomach.  
“Great,” Viggo said softly.

“Great,” Orlando echoed. He held out a hand for Viggo to shake. Viggo took it and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

“Goodbye ‘til later, then.” Viggo squeezed briefly then went to talk to someone else. Orlando forced his legs to move, hastily scribbling down his hotel information before leaving the gallery.


	7. Chapter 7

MY CONFESSION  
Seven

 _You are the air that I breathe…You're the ground beneath my feet…When did I stop believing?_

 

Orlando paced in front of the gallery, biting at his thumbnail. It was ten minutes to eleven, and Viggo was nowhere to be seen. The gallery was dark, and Orlando saw no one inside when he peered through the front window. He didn’t think Viggo would stand him up, though he knew he certainly deserved it. Viggo had the right to be utterly nasty and hateful to Orlando; Orlando had done everything to earn it.

“Sorry,” a voice said behind him. Orlando whirled around. Viggo smiled shyly. “I got caught up signing stuff in the office.” Viggo slung a small backpack up over one shoulder.

“It went well, then?” Orlando asked. Viggo nodded, wiping his hands on his thighs.

“I think I can finally breathe now without feeling like I’m going to vomit.”

Orlando blinked. “I didn’t think you got nervous, Vig.”

Viggo snorted. “If you only knew, Elf Boy. This calm exterior belies a very nervous heart.” He motioned down the street. “About three blocks down is a diner open all night…feel like something like that or would you prefer a drink?”

Orlando knew that no matter what he’d end up sounding like a stuttering fool. Better a sober fool than a drunk one. “That sounds fine. Lead the way. It looks pretty safe.”

“I don’t have a sword, but I’ll protect your virtue,” Viggo promised.

It was Orlando’s turn to snort. “I lost that a long time ago, Viggo. In more ways than one.”

Viggo didn’t respond, simply leading the way down the sidewalk. They exchanged small talk before arriving at the tiny diner. Viggo held the door for Orlando. “Two,” he told the man at the counter.

“Right this way,” the man said, leading them to the farthest booth in the back. “Something to drink for you, gentlemen?”

“Coffee. Black. Strong,” Viggo said. “And water.”

“I’ll have coffee, too. Water as well. Could you put a slice of…” Orlando paused. “Coffee and water. That’d be great.” He shrugged out of his jacket, meeting Viggo’s questioning gaze. “What?”

“Nothing.” Viggo straightened his napkin and lined up his silverware on the scratched table’s surface. “So, why exactly are you here?”

“Well, you asked me…”

“I mean here in California.”

“Well, I had some interviews, the charity thing, a meeting with the studios,” Orlando said, running a hand through his curls before leaning his arm across the back of the booth. “You know, the usual stuff.” He shrugged.

“Right,” Viggo said, nodding. His eyes searched Orlando’s face but didn’t seem to find what they were looking for. “And then?”

“And then I’ll go back to Europe. I have to do some publicity stuff for the last movie, then start meetings for this new one.” He pulled out the fax and handed it to Viggo. Orlando had it memorized.

Viggo scanned it quickly. “Looks big.”

“Yes. Big.”

“And loud.

“That too.”

“And bloody…and violent…and epic…and did I mention big?” Viggo teased. “And expensive.”

“Right on all counts.” Orlando looked anything but thrilled.

“Okay, guys, what can I get you?” The waiter put down their drinks.

Viggo didn’t even look at the menu. “Turkey club, extra mayo, side of cole slaw, please.”

“Do you have soup?” Orlando asked.

“Cream of cauliflower, broccoli cheese and chili.”

“Give me a bowl of the broccoli with no crackers and a baked potato with nothing on it.” Orlando handed over his menu with a flourish. The waiter raised an eyebrow, as did Viggo. “Please,” Orlando said almost shyly.

“Thank you.” The waiter took their menus and left. Viggo stirred cream into his coffee.

“I noticed your salary. Even if the movie bombs you’ll never have to work again.”

“Yeah,” Orlando said, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Are you going to do it?”

“I should. I know Robin wants me to.”

“Fuck what Robin wants,” Viggo said almost savagely. “For once in your life, Orli, do what YOU want.” Orlando blinked. “I’m shocked you even saw the damn papers. I thought she did that sort of thing for you.”

“She does! But I was here, and I told them to send them over, you know, to save time and…” Orlando shook his head. “What the hell am I explaining myself to you for?”

“Why do you feel the need to explain yourself to me, Orlando? It doesn’t make a difference what I think.”

“Because I CARE about what you think!” Orlando shot before he could stop himself. Viggo leaned back in his seat. Orlando blushed and played with his spoon. “I know you don’t think much of me, Vig, and it’s not like you shouldn’t, I mean, I know I’m a brainless git compared to you, and…”

“You’re not brainless, Orli,” Viggo interrupted. “You just chose a different path, that’s all. Don’t say that.”

“I can’t help but compare myself to you, Viggo,” Orlando said softly. “You’re what I want to be when I grow up.”

A smile twitched at Viggo’s lips. “And just when will that be?”

Orlando shrugged and smiled back. The waiter soon arrived with their food. Orlando busied himself with cutting up his potato and pushing it into his soup with his spoon. “I don’t really want to do the movie,” he said suddenly. Viggo froze in mid bite. “I had the papers sent to me for two reasons. First of all, I need to start taking responsibility for my career, like Beanie said. Secondly, I…I didn’t want her to see them before I did. I didn’t want her harping me about it.”

“I have something for you.” Viggo put down his sandwich and dug into his backpack. He handed Orlando a small folder.

“What’s this?” Orlando looked at the first piece of paper and froze. “The screenplay?”

“Yes. Read it. Billy was right, Orli. The part is you through and through.” Viggo took a bite of his slaw.

“I will. I promise.” Orlando sat the folder on the seat next to him. “Not that they want anything to do with me now.”

“If I can sit in a booth and have a civil adult dinner with you, they can at least talk to you about their work,” Viggo pointed out.

“About that.” Orlando took a few quiet slurps of soup. “I…I appreciate this, Viggo. I know I was a royal fool, a total arse in the way I treated you.”

“Water under the bridge,” Viggo said, waving his fork in the air.

Orlando’s heart sank. His hand actually shook so hard that he had to put his spoon down. “I…I see. Well, you know, I really never got the chance to apologize, and I just wanted to.”

“Closure,” Viggo said, nodding.

“Yes, well, no. Not exactly. I just…” And this was where the stuttering idiot sat down and took over Orlando’s brain. “I…I realized lately that I…”

“Is everything okay here?” The waiter appeared out of nowhere.

“Yes, we’re fine!” Orlando snapped. “If we need you, we’ll call.” The waiter frowned and went away. Orlando sighed and rubbed his forehead. Viggo sighed as well. Orlando looked at him, noticing everything that he thought he had pushed out of his mind. The cleft in the strong chin, the intelligence in the blue eyes, the smile lines at the corners of the tender lips.

“Why did you do it, Orlando?”

“Well, I told you. I thought you agreed that it was just a fling, during shooting. You know, recreational sex and all that, between two consenting friends.” Orlando forced himself to eat a bit more.

“And when I told you how I felt about you? That it was more than that?” Viggo’s palm slapped the table, causing Orlando’s soup to slop out of the bowl. “That meant nothing, then?”

“Of course it meant something. I told you that I did care about you, but…”

“But your career came first.”

“What happened to water under the bridge?” Orlando retorted.

“Fuck the water and fuck the bridge.” Viggo laughed, a cold sound. “Did you REALLY think that I could get over you like that?”

“It’s been a few years…”

“And you’re everywhere. On television. At the movies. I can’t get away from you, even if I wanted to. Why do you think I made sure to create a new life for myself out in the middle of nowhere? It’s the one place you couldn’t possibly get to me.” Viggo rubbed at the back of his neck. “And I sure as hell didn’t plan on saying all that, but as usual, you bring things out in me that I didn’t know were even fucking THERE.”

“Viggo.” Orlando’s voice was a quiet pleading sound. “I am so sorry. I never knew…I didn’t know you felt so strongly. I mean, about ME, of all people. I’m not worthy of you…not worthy of your time, your love, your emotions. I never was.” He reached out towards Viggo, then pulled back. He nervously played with a curl. “I’ve realized lately that I was at my best during that time with you. I felt like I could do anything, be anything. Because of us.” He smiled sadly. “Not that there really WAS an us, right? Because it was temporary. I thought so, at least. I could let myself be that other person…because it was a temporary paradise in New Zealand, and I didn’t think…I knew we couldn’t…”

“You couldn’t be Orlando Bloom the Movie Star while being Orlando Bloom the Gay Man,” Viggo finished. He threw down some money. “Orlando, thank you. This was truly necessary…and I think we both got our closure.” Viggo stood. “You’re coming along. Maybe in another five or six years you’ll grow up completely.” He left the diner without another word.

Orlando never even considered running after him. He added some money to Viggo’s and left the diner, leaving the staff to stare after him. He walked a few blocks until he could find a taxi, then returned to the hotel.

He plodded down the hall to his room. Upon flipping on the living room light, he was startled to see a large brown package leaning against the sofa. He grabbed the attached note, scanning it eagerly. His heart sank as he put the note down and tore the brown paper. The red of the paint seemed like blood to Orlando.

 _Orlando…like I could give this painting to anyone but you. You always were a gift to me…and I’ll never stop loving you. I write this as I nervously count the hours until I can meet with you tonight. Yours always, Viggo._

“Fuck,” Orlando muttered, falling onto the sofa and wishing it was possible to beat himself to a bloody pulp.


	8. Chapter 8

MY CONFESSION  
Eight

 

“Front desk.”

“This is Orlando Bloom in Suite ten-fifteen.” Orlando paced as he talked.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Bloom.”

“I’d like an order of toast and tea. Rye toast, dry. Earl Grey tea. I also will be checking out in about ninety minutes, and need all of the paperwork taken care of. I’ll need someone to arrange a flight for me as well.”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom…but we were under the impression that you’d be with us until tomorrow morning.”

“I can change my mind, can’t I?”

“Of…of course, Mr. Bloom. I’ll send someone up to you directly.”

Orlando hung up and frowned at the phone for a moment. He knew he should have been a little nicer to the innocent person on the other end of the phone, but his mind was whirling in too many different directions to worry about his manners. He hadn’t slept after returning to the suite and seeing Viggo’s painting. He had finally settled down on the balcony, drinking beer, staring out over the cityscape and wondering when the hell he had started to become this nightmare of a spoiled celebrity.

He went to the bedroom and pulled out his bags. He slowly started to fold and pack his clothes, stopping every few seconds to stare into space and think about Viggo. The doorbell rang, bringing Orlando out of his reverie. He answered it with a suit folded over his arm. Rebecca, the employee who he had given the dinner tickets to, stood in the hallway. Over one shoulder hung a black bag, and in her hands was a tray. “Good morning, Mr. Bloom.”

“Come in.” He waved her in, closing the door behind them. “Did you have a good time last night?”

“It was amazing, thank you. I had a hard time getting up for my shift this morning, but it was worth it.” She held the tray up. “Where would you like this?”

“In the bedroom, please,” he said absently. “I’m packing.”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom.”

He stopped walking and she almost ran into him. “Orlando, please. I’m starting to get tired of hearing Mr. Bloom every five minutes.”

“Yes, Mr. Bl…I mean, Orlando,” she said, smiling shyly. She set the tray on the small table in the bedroom and stared at the bed. “Do you, uh, need help packing?”

“Of course not,” Orlando said defensively. “I pack all the time.”

“Of course. Just thought I’d offer.” She slung the bag from her shoulder and pulled out a small laptop. “We usually do this over the phone, but I figured since the tray was coming up anyway…” She placed it on the desk and hooked it to the phone line, then hooked up the small printer as well.

“Thank you,” he said, returning to his packing.

“Leaving from LAX, I presume?” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Yes…to Heathrow.” He disappeared into the bathroom, taking the tea with him.

“Flying first class?”

“Of course,” he called, and she rolled her eyes.

“How does this sound? A flight leaving LAX in four hours and…oh…wait…it has a layover in…”

“That’s fine,” Orlando said, returning with his toiletry bag and teacup. “I need time to think.”

“Oh.” Rebecca blinked. “If that’s what you’d like. The cost is…”

“I don’t care.” He picked up his wallet and pulled out a credit card. “Use this.”

“Oh. Okay.” She stared a moment then regained her mind. “Of course.”

Orlando shoved the rest of his things into the suitcase, suddenly not even caring if they wrinkled or broke. “I appreciate this, Rebecca. I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“They told me that you were my priority this morning,” she said, and he smiled.

“Priority. Interesting.” She printed out his ticket and handed it to him, then shut down the computer. “Thank you,” he murmured, reading the page without really seeing it.

“Have a safe trip, Mr. Bloom.”

Orlando walked her to the door. “Have a nice day, Rebecca.” He shook her hand, sliding some money into it. She smiled her thanks and he closed the door behind her. He smiled as he imagined her face when she opened her hand and saw a one hundred dollar bill on her palm.

 

“Hello, this is Eric Bana.”

“Brother, where are you?”

“This couldn’t possibly be my little brother, Paris. Number one, I know he’s forgotten my bloody cell number, and number two, I’m not a big enough star to deserve the right to a phone call from HIM.”

“Eric, don’t.” Orlando closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall of the privacy booth. “Please.”

There was a short pause. “Orlando, are you all right?”

“No. I need help.” Eric snorted. “I’m coming home. Are you still there?”

“Yes. We’re filming in England and Scotland through the end of the month. Where are you now?”

“In the airport in L.A., waiting to board. I’ll be home tonight. I’ll be on British Airways, flight twelve-ten.”

“And let me guess…you need a place to stay.”

“No, I wouldn’t impose like that. I was going to ask if you could reserve me a room at…”

“I’m in a suite. You can crash here, Orli.” Orlando heard Eric sigh. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“You could say that.” Orlando paused, his ears perked. “They just called for first class. Where are you staying?”

“I’ll come get you at the airport. Have a safe flight.” Eric hung up before Orlando could say anything further.

 

Orlando wearily walked off the plane, bag pulling at his shoulder. He had thought the time to think would be a good idea, but in the end it had only given him a headache. He had no clue what to do next, but he knew getting back to England was a start.

A large man with a dark beard and dark hair leaned against a wall near the gate. Sunglasses hid his eyes, and he wore a grey baseball cap. He pushed himself off the wall with an easy shrug as Orlando approached him. “Hey there.” Orlando bit at his bottom lip. “I…uh…”

“C’mere.” Eric pulled Orlando into his arms and crushed him with a warm hug. “Stupid little brother.”

Orlando clutched at Eric’s sleeves, fighting the urge to sob like a girl onto the broad shoulders. “Thank you for still liking me,” he whispered into Eric’s arm.

Eric pulled back to stare at him. “Let’s get outta here before we have an Oprah moment.” Eric easily took Orlando’s bag and led the way to the luggage area. “I have a car waiting out front.”

“You drove?”

“Some people still do.”

“I mean…there won’t be anyone else in the car?”

“No driver,” Eric promised. He handed Orlando the smaller of the suitcases and carried everything else. “Does Robin know you’re home?”

“No. She’s next on my list.”

“You have a list?”

“Well, right now it has three things on it…call you, come home, and call her. She can wait. By the time I call her, I need more things on the list.”

“Ah,” Eric said, though he sounded totally lost. He led the way out the door to the front drive of the airport. “The black one.” He nodded with his head and Orlando headed for the small car. He froze as he saw someone leaning against the passenger door.

“Lying fuck,” he snapped at Eric.

“I didn’t lie,” Eric said primly. “I said there was no driver. I didn’t say there was no one else in the car.”

Sean Bean stared at Orlando for a good hard moment. “Orlando.”

“Sean.” Orlando stood and fidgeted for a moment. Sean finally moved and held the front door open. Orlando ignored it and climbed into the back. Sean and Eric exchanged looks as Eric loaded the luggage into the car. Sean and Eric climbed in and Eric put the car into drive. “So…uh…you’re back in London.”

“Yes,” Sean said, turning slightly to look at Orlando. Orlando was looking out the window. “I flew back the morning after the dinner.” Orlando nodded. “Didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

“What’s he doing here?” Orlando demanded. “I don’t think I asked him.”

“I asked him,” Eric said, glancing at him in the rear view mirror. “We talked yesterday, before you called, and he mentioned something about you being a bastard. I thought maybe you two could work it out with a mediator.”

“I don’t need a fucking mediator,” Orlando snapped.

“No, apparently what you need is a fucking babysitter,” Sean said.

“And what you need is to fuck off!” Orlando yelled.

“Both of you fuck off and shut up,” Eric interrupted. “We’ll be at the hotel in a few minutes. Keep your mouths shut ‘til we get there, okay?”

He parked the car at the hotel and the three men silently went into the building. No one spoke until they reached Eric’s suite. Orlando flopped onto the sofa. Eric sat next to him. Sean stood by a chair, finally sitting when Eric gave him an evil look.

“M’not a bastard,” Orlando said finally. “I guess you missed the part where you all were picking on me?”

“I guess YOU missed the part where you were being a bastard,” Sean said. “Christ, lad, is your brain truly not connected to your mouth?” He shook his head. “You pretty much made it sound that you were too important to even READ Bill and Dom’s screenplay, and then you made a big deal out of the fact that you don’t even bother to read ANY of your scripts. You let your agent do that. You could call in a favor to get the screenplay to a studio, but you sure as hell couldn’t DO a favor by being a part of it.”

“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it!” Orlando insisted. “I’m proud of them, and I’d like to be a part of it.”

“Bullshit,” Sean snapped. “And how do I know what you meant? No one knows what you mean anymore, Orlando. We don’t know what you mean or who you are or what the hell you’re trying to become. We just know what you’re not, and you’re NOT our friend. You’re not our Elf, you’re not our Orlando. You’re this…this…”

“Pod person?” Eric interjected. Sean glared at him. “Okay, back to silent mediator. Sorry.”

“I’m who I’ve always been, Sean. I’m sorry if that’s not good enough,” Orlando said.

Sean snorted. “Not good enough? Mate, if anyone’s not good enough, apparently it’s us. You haven’t given us the time of day since those pirate movies started taking off. We’ve barely seen hide nor hair of you since then.” He held up a hand as Orlando’s mouth opened. “And DON’T say you’ve been busy. We’re all busy, Orlando, and we still find time for our friends.” Sean folded his arms over his chest. “And don’t even get me started about Viggo.”

“Viggo?” Orlando stood. “I don’t think what happened between Viggo and I is anyone’s business.”

“Oh, but it is, Orlando. It becomes my business when one of my best mates comes to me crying in his ale because his heart’s been broken.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Orlando stared at Sean. “Viggo doesn’t cry.”

“He does when he’s down and drunk enough. Besides, Orlando, you wouldn’t know, since you conveniently disappeared after you dumped him.”

“Dammit, I didn’t dump him!” Orlando said in exasperation. “When we started what we did, it was with the agreement that it was just sex. Just a way to get off. We liked each other as people and were attracted to each other. It’s not my fault that he thought he had feelings for me and that he saw it as more than it was!”

“That who had feelings for who?” Eric interrupted. Orlando stared at him. Sean started at him. Eric smiled pleasantly. “Cut the crap, Orli. You know your feelings were JUST as strong as Viggo’s.”

“I don’t think that…” Orlando began. Eric turned to Sean.

“You weren’t around him like I was during “Troy,” Sean. I heard the name Viggo, on average, about twenty times a day. “Viggo says this” and “Viggo says that.” It was enough to make me hate the bloke and I hadn’t even met him.” Eric’s dark eyes never left Orlando. “Start being a bit honest with yourself.”

Orlando sat back down and buried his head in his hands. “That’s why I’m back,” he said softly. “I realized something in L.A. I told Viggo, but the conversation didn’t end on the best of terms, and I’m not sure he believed me.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I was at my best when I was in New Zealand. I was at my best when I was with him, with all of you. You were a family, a big family that I’d never had, and I could be Orlando Bloom with you. Then the family went its separate ways, and I had to be Orlando Bloom all by myself. And then he turned into this…this…this selfish brat and I just let it happen because it was easier that way. I came home to start to…well…come home.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I always hated this phrase, but now I understand it. I need to find myself.” He looked at Sean and Eric, then angrily wiped at a tear. “I need you to help me. Fix me.”

Sean stood and came to sit next to Orlando. He threw an arm around Orlando’s shoulders. “No one can do that but you, mate.”

“I’m sorry I called you names and was an all around twat,” Orlando said, welcoming the embrace.

“Yeah, well, the first step in recovery is admitting the problem,” Sean said, and Orlando actually laughed.

“You’re not doing this for Viggo, are you, Orli?” Eric asked softly. Orlando shook his head.

“No, I’m doing it for me. But he’s on the list.”

“Back to the list again.” Eric rolled his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

MY CONFESSION  
Nine

 

Orlando slept like a baby his first night back in England. He had his own place not too far outside of the city, but he dreaded going back to its empty rooms and echoing halls. He had bought it because he liked the idea of owning what he could call a “country estate,” but the grandeur of the décor only made him seem lonelier and farther away from everything he was starting to miss.

He stretched, smiling as he thought of the dinner he had enjoyed with Sean and Eric. It was nice to know that he COULD be the Orli he knew deep down inside. He had traded jokes with Eric and drinking games with Sean. He knew he should have the hangover of the century, especially with the time difference, but he felt good. Better than he had in ages.

He glanced at the clock and saw that it was ten in the morning. He remembered that Eric had to be back on the set at eleven for a short cast meeting, and therefore he made himself get out of bed and go into the bathroom. Orlando washed his face and hands and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Hey,” he said sleepily, running a hand through his curls. Eric sat at the table reading the newspaper. Orlando bestowed a kiss on his dark head before heading for the coffeepot.

“Morning, sunshine.” Eric smiled at the haphazard sight of his “little brother.” “You look refreshed.”

“Damn straight, mate.” Orlando sat at the table, stirring his coffee. “I haven’t slept this good in years, I don’t think.”

“You look remarkably healthy after everything you two drank,” Eric said with amusement.

“Where IS Beanie?”

“Put him in a taxi this morning. He crashed on the sofa for a few hours but ended up going back to that loft he keeps downtown.” Eric glanced at his watch and finished his coffee. “I have to run. What are you doing today? I should be back not too long after lunch.”

Orlando stretched his arms over his head and Eric winced as he heard bones crack. “Well, I need to call Robin. Fuck but that’s gonna be hell.”

“How so?”

“I’m going to politely tell her to shove it,” Orlando said bluntly. “She has three months left to her contract…we were gonna renegotiate in a few weeks. Fuck it. I’ll find a new manager, or do it myself.”

“You’re joking.”

“Serious as a fucking heart attack, Eric. I’m gonna grow up and start doing things for myself. Maybe I won’t actually BE my own manager, but I’m sure as hell gonna start getting more involved in my career.” He started ticking things off on his fingers. “Gotta call Dom and Billy, and grovel. Gotta call Elijah, and grovel, though he owes me an apology as well.”

“Gotta call Viggo?” Eric asked.

Orlando studied the table. “No. Not yet. He’s…not gonna be very receptive to anything I have to say right now.”

Eric bent down and kissed the tousled curls. “Try saying I love you. I think he’d be quite receptive to that, mate.”

 

Orlando took his time showering, allowing for the fact that his manager was in New York and therefore five hours behind London. He pulled on a pair of jeans and dug around in his suitcase, frowning at his shirts. He padded into Eric’s room on bare feet and found a large grey fleece laying on the floor. Orlando pulled it over his head, inhaling the scent of Eric’s cologne. He smiled, feeling as if his big brother was hugging him and giving encouragement.

Shaking his head at his behavior, Orlando went back into the living room, picked up the phone, and carried to the coffee table. He stared at it for a long moment as if it were about to attack him. He bit at a fingernail for a second, then turned on the speakerphone before dialing. It was seven a.m. in New York. Robin would be up.

“This is Robin,” she barked.

Obviously she was wide awake. “Robin, it’s Orlando.”

“Where the hell are you, Orli? I just heard the news. You blew off the dinner? I told you they expected you to be there.”

“There were a hundred other actors and musicians there, Robin, I doubt they missed me.” Orlando curled one leg under his body and bent the other knee up. He rested his chin on that knee. “How are you today?”

“Don’t pull that sweetheart crap with me, Orlando. We’re gonna have to do some serious spinning to cover this one up.”

“Well, about that.” Orlando picked at the edge of the sofa cushion. “I don’t think it will be necessary.”

“What?” Robin squawked indignantly.

“I don’t think it will be necessary,” Orlando repeated. “I don’t think you’ll have to do anything for me, Robin. Ever again, actually.”

“Orlando…”

“Will you please, for once, just be quiet?” Orlando snapped, his tired ego rushing to the surface. “For what I pay you, you should be able to sit quiet and listen to me talk, for fuck’s sake.” Silence at the other end. “Thank you,” he said wearily. “I know you’re aware that your contract runs out in a few months, and I know we were going to sit down and talk about it. The thing is…I think I need to go in a different direction. I need to go somewhere new, and it’s not a place I think you’ll be comfortable.”

“And just what is this place?”

“It’s the place where I can be myself and not worry about what the public or the industry thinks. If I go to a charity event, I want to do it because I believe in the charity, not because it’s the “right” place to be. I want to do pictures that will mean a lot to me personally, NOT mean a lot to my bank account. Do you understand?”

“I was only doing it for you, Orli. Maybe we could work on this. It’s definitely an interesting angle.”

Orlando chuckled, though the sound was far from mirthful. “Robin, it’s not an angle. It’s my fucking life, okay? I’ll give you a nice severance, I promise. I just need to move on.”

“Don’t blame me if your career goes down in flames, Bloom. I’ve done everything I could to make you a star, and obviously I did something right,” she said angrily.

“I think I was the one making the movies, Robin,” Orlando said gently. She replied by slamming the phone down. He jumped and slowly reached forward to turn off the speakerphone. “Well, that went well,” he said out loud.

 

Eric came home a few hours later to find what seemed to be an empty suite. “Orli?”

“In here,” a voice called from Eric’s bathroom. Eric dropped his things on the sofa and wandered into the master bedroom. He knocked on the closed door. “I’m decent. Come in.”

“Hardly,” Eric scoffed, but opened the door.

Orlando lounged in Eric’s large bathtub, covered from toes to neck with frothing bubbles. “Your tub was bigger, and I needed a good soak.”

“Is this the time where I tell you that you’re a fucking girl? Should I braid your hair for you?” Eric teased in a girlish voice.

“Fuck off, before I tie your balls into a knot,” Orlando snapped.

Eric chuckled. “How did your calls go?”

“Well…I only made one,” Orlando said, running a hand along the edge of the tub. “And it didn’t go very well.”

“Hence the very necessary bubble bath,” Eric commented.

“Yeah,” Orlando said, nodding. “She seems to think that I got where I am because of her, not because I have talent.” He stuck his toes up in the faucet, alternating feet. “Not that I don’t agree with her sometimes about the talent part,” he muttered.

“Shut it,” Eric growled. “You are talented, Orli. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

“Hand me that towel, could you?” Orlando leaned forward and opened the drain before standing up. “I’m not doubting myself, really, it’s just…she made me wonder for a bit if it was true.”

“It’s bullshit and you know it.” Eric handed over the requested towel, then a robe. He smiled. “I could make a million with a picture of that.”

“What?” Orlando asked from under the towel as he scrubbed his curls.

“Orlando Bloom with bubbles on his arse.” A middle finger appeared from under the towel and Eric’s smile broadened. “No thank you. I’m straight. Feel like getting some lunch?”

“I had a late breakfast,” Orlando said, appearing from under the towel. He put on the robe, tying the belt tight. “Maybe dinner? I could eat Italian.”

“I know just the place. I’ll make a reservation.” Eric stood. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” Orlando said quietly. Eric ruffled the damp curls and left the bathroom.

Orlando got dried off and back into his jeans. He left Eric’s fleece in the laundry pile and got his own t-shirt. He didn’t feel the need for protection this time. He stared at the phone yet again before dialing.

“Dominic here.”

“Hi, Dom. It’s…it’s Orli.”

“Hello, Orlando.” Dom’s voice was polite but cold. “How are you?”

“Good, I’m back home, you know, taking care of some things.” Orlando bit at his bottom lip. “Listen, Viggo gave me a copy of your script…since I lost mine and all.”

“Yeah?” Dom sounded vague. “Look, Orli, if this is just a chitchat call, I really don’t have time for it.”

“I read it on the plane and it’s fantastic,” Orlando blurted out. “And the part you said you wrote for me? It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before.”

“Yeah, well, I figured so much. Not a lot of guns or adventure or swooping in to save the girl and all that.”

Orlando winced. “I know. I deserved that. Look, Dom, I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry I acted like such a selfish git. I…I haven’t been myself lately.” Dom snorted. “All right, you got me. I haven’t been myself for a few years now. And I’m not thinking I’m gonna change overnight, but…this role. It’s amazing. And I want it. Whenever you get a deal, I want my name in on it.” Orlando rubbed at his forehead, wondering if he should say what he was thinking. He decided to take a chance. “And if you want, I’ll do anything I can to get you meetings with people at the studios. I don’t have that much pull, I mean, I’m a famous name but don’t have that much of a reputation with the suits, ya know? But I’ll do what I can. You just say the word and I will bend over backwards to help you. It’s the least I can do.”

The phone was silent for a long moment. “We appreciate that, Orlando.” Billy’s thick accent came across the line.

“Bill, hey.”

“Dommie put me on speaker,” Billy said. “We have a few meetings this week and a couple more the beginning of next week. If something doesn’t come through, we may just take you up on that.”

“Good,” Orlando said, relieved. “I’m sorry, Billy. I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Me, too,” Dom said, and his voice was a bit warmer. “Where are you now?”

“I’m in Eric’s suite in London. I’ll probably go out to the house at the end of the week. You have my cell, right? I don’t even have the phone turned on out there.”

“Yeah, we got it,” Billy said.

“Let me know the second you hear something, okay? I don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

“Don’t say that, Orli. You know he’ll wait to call you at three in the morning on purpose now,” Dom said, and Orlando laughed out loud.


	10. Chapter 10

MY CONFESSION  
Ten

 

“What the hell was I thinking?” Orlando surveyed the disaster that was the master bedroom in the country house.

He wasn’t looking at his wardrobe. That was satisfactory. He enjoyed the unique quality of his clothing. He was looking at the furniture, paintings, sculptures, pottery and other accessories that normally decorated the room. At the moment, as much of it as possible was stacked on the large bed. The bed was the only thing he liked. For a long moment, he closed his eyes and imagined Viggo’s body pressing him down onto its soft mattress. He groaned and opened his eyes.

“It’s all going to go,” he declared out loud. “Everything except the bed. And maybe the blue vase.” He went to the sitting room and called out the door. “Emily?”

A middle-aged woman came hurrying down the hall. “Yes, Mr. Bloom?”

Orlando noticed her haste and sighed. He knew he could be a grade-A dickhead a lot of the time, and apparently he had done a lot of it in this house. “Emily, do you know someone who could help me move some things?”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom. My brother has a van and does jobs such as that.”

“Excellent.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Everything on the bed. It’s gone.”

“What…what do you want done with it?”

“I really could care less. You can keep it. You can sell it and keep the money. No, wait.” He walked back into the bedroom with Emily on his heels. He plucked the blue vase off the bed and set it on the floor. “Did I hear you say something about a fundraiser for the school?”

“Yes, Mr. Bloom. During the last storm the library flooded, destroying almost all the books.”

“Find a way to sell all this, and give the money to the school.”

“Mr. Bloom!” Emily gasped. “We can’t…”

“Do it,” he growled. She bobbed a curtsey and fled the room. He grinned. Sometimes being a dickhead had its privileges. His cellphone rang and he retrieved it from his pocket. He didn’t recognize the number. “Bloom here.”

“What the fuck is all this stuff?”

Orlando grinned nervously and went back out to plop on the sofa of his sitting room. “Hi, Elijah.”

“What is it?”

“If I remember correctly, it’s cds, video games, cigarettes, and liquor.”

“And flowers.”

“Ah, yes. Flowers.” Orlando bit at his bottom lip.

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

“Buy your friendship?”

“What?”

“Just kidding. I know I can’t do that…hell, you’ve been saving money since the womb. I knew it would get you to at least call me.”

“You’re right,” Elijah grumbled. “What do you want, Orlando?”

“To apologize. Most of what you said was right on target, and coming from you…it hurt the most. You know me best of all of them, Elijah, and hearing you say what I knew deep down as true kicked me where it counts.” Oralndo sighed. “I reacted badly and I wanted to apologize. I’ve already apologized to Eric Bana, Beanie, Dom and Billy.”

“And now I’m supposed to just jump for joy, give you a tender embrace, take your hand and go running through a meadow with you?”

Orlando had to smile. He could imagine Elijah standing, wherever he was, arms crossed over his chest as he dipped his head to look up from under his bangs. It was the only way Elijah ever manage to look remotely sinister. “Well, I’m not so much about the meadow, though there’s a nice one out my bedroom window.” He heard Elijah snort. “I just want to hear you say you forgive me, or that you might THINK about forgiving me. I was a pompous arse, though you might possibly owe me an apology as well.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you, prick!” Orlando yelled, anger getting the best of him. “If I remember correctly, you called me a dick and a bitch, among other colorful names.”

“You deserved it. You admitted that.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean you had to say it. You said some pretty nasty things to me, Elijah.”

“So?” Elijah grumbled, but Orlando knew he was admitting it as well. “Okay, maybe I was as much of a prick as you that night. But only that night,” he added quickly.

“I forgive you,” Orlando said softly. The line buzzed for a moment.

“I forgive you,” Elijah repeated. “I fucking miss you, Orli.”

“I miss you, too, Elijah, and I miss me.” Orlando fell back onto the sofa, feeling more of that tense weight drift from his shoulders. “I’m trying, ‘Lij.”

“I know you are. Billy and Dom told me you called. That was big of you.”

Orlando knew that Elijah was being sincere. “I’m going back, little by little, and rebuilding those bridges. They were burned to the ground.”

“How many are left?”

“Just…one. But that one…I may just have to put up a memorial and move to another road.” Orlando sighed as he thought about the last words he had exchanged with Viggo.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said. “So…why flowers?”

Orlando laughed. “I figured if nothing else, they’d make you smile.”

“It worked. Look, I’m getting ready to do an interview. I have to go. But hey, I’ll be coming through London on my way to Berlin in a few weeks. How about I crash with you for a few days. Will you be there?”

“Oh, man, that’d be great. Maybe you could pick up Dom or Billy or someone, if they’re done in the States.” Delight washed through Orlando. “Oh, God, Elijah, that sounds fantastic.”

“Good. I’ll call you.”

“I can’t wait.” Orlando hung up, a dizzying smile on his face.

 

Orlando spent the following days totally redoing his house. He threw out things that he didn’t even remember buying, then realized that he had given the expensive interior decorator a free hand in buying what she wanted. Most of it, he realized, looked good in the house but did not represent him in any way, shape or form. Soon the house began to look like a home, and he felt more comfortable in it. The people who worked in the house still seemed afraid of them, but at least they no longer jumped when he walked through the house.

He went down to the kitchen, grabbed an apple, and munched it as he headed back up to the large den. Emily was dusting the mantle above the fireplace. “Something came to you today, Mr. Bloom. Deliveryman said it was shipped from Mr. Bana’s suite in London?”

“Oh.” The piece of apple in Orlando’s throat seemed to hinder his breathing as he looked at the large parcel wrapped in brown paper. It leaned against the wall, looking large and innocent. Orlando didn’t know if he wanted to hug it or burn it. “Th-thank you, Emily. Could you have someone take it up to my suite, when they have time?”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom. Are you all right? You look pale, suddenly.”

“I’m fine.” He tossed his apple core in the nearest trash bin. “I’m going out for a walk. I’ll leave my phone with you; if anyone calls please take a message.”

“Very well.” She stared at him as he strode out of the room.

Orlando walked for over an hour, thoughts of Viggo and paint and memories of everything rushing through his mind. He knew he had to at least apologize to Viggo, try to give whatever they had some sort of closure. Eric had been closer to the truth than he thought when he had mentioned Orlando’s feelings for Viggo. Orlando HAD fallen in love with him during the filming in New Zealand. He wanted nothing more than to stay with Viggo forever. But he had been scared. He was slightly worried about Viggo’s career; Viggo always played the strong sensuous man, and most people did not see a gay man as anything like that. His own career had mattered more, and like Viggo had said, he absolutely could not imagine being a star AND being out of the closet. He had taken the child’s way out, dropping his plaything in favor of something better.

“Fucking git,” Orlando muttered to himself as he climbed back up to the house.

“Mr. Bloom.” Emily held the door for him. “Mr. Wood called, giving the times and flight numbers for himself, a Mr. Boyd, and a Mr. Monaghan. He also said to tell you not to prepare a room for Mr. Boyd, as Mr. Wood would probably kill him before they set down at Heathrow.” A smile twitched at her lips, broadening into a true grin as Orlando’s face lit up.

“Prepare three guestrooms…in case they all make it here alive.”


	11. Chapter 11

MY CONFESSION  
Eleven

 

Orlando downed the rest of his beer and stood, smiling at the triumvirate entering the airport bar. “You all survived.”

“No thanks to Billy,” Elijah grumbled. “He’s been nothing but a pest since last Tuesday.” Elijah accepted Orlando’s hug.

“Ya had to start drinking to hang with us, then?” Billy said, motioning to Orlando’s empty glass.

“No, I just…I couldn’t wait out there.” Orlando had the grace to blush. “I get mobbed sometimes. Not ALL the time, but it’s really starting to freak me out.” He studied his toes. “I didn’t want this time together to get ruined from the get go.”

“It’s okay, Orli.” Dom squeezed his shoulder. “We understand that you’re now an official pin-up boy, and that all the birds want a piece of your pretty.”

“Fuck off,” Orlando said, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Hey, if you don’t mind sticking around town a bit, Beanie’s back in the city, and Eric Bana’s still here. Eric went ahead and made a reservation in his hotel’s dining room…thought the five of us could have dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Elijah said. “As long as we can park our shit somewhere.”

“I have a key to Eric’s suite,” Orlando said, leading the way out of the bar. “You can drop everything there…shower, too, if you want.”

 

Orlando and the Hobbits were sitting in Eric’s living room, talking over top of one another, when Eric opened the door, cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his cheek. “Yeah, I understand. I know.” He nodded at Orlando and gave the other men a warm smile. “Okay. Love you, too. Bye.” He hung up and rolled his eyes. “I love her to death, but sometimes I’m glad I have to be a continent or two away from her.”

“One of the many reasons I am still single,” Elijah said.

“Bullshit,” Dom replied. “No one’s dumb enough to get involved with you.”

Elijah tackled and they rolled to the floor. “Hello, Eric,” Billy said, holding out his hand to Eric and ignoring the pair on the floor. “Nice to see ya again.”

“You, too, Billy.” Eric shook the hand and looked at Orlando. “Speaking of significant others…”

“Eric,” Orlando warned.

“What’s this?” Eric tossed a tabloid onto the coffee table. Elijah and Dom stopped wrestling.

Dom leaned up on one arm so he could see the table. “Bloom to wed longtime flame Kate Bosworth,” he read out loud.

“What? Oh, fuck, not again.” Orlando grabbed the paper and flipped through it. “She said she’d make sure they didn’t do this shit again. Every other month we’re engaged, and she doesn’t quite do much to stop the rumors.”

“Are you?” Eric asked softly. “Engaged, I mean.”

“Hell, no!” Orlando glared up at his friend. “I think the fact that I’m fucking queer should be your first clue.”

“It probably would help your career if you were out there as a straight, married man,” Eric pointed out.

Even Elijah stared at him. “Where are ya going with this?” Billy asked.

Eric shrugged. “Just wondering which was more important, your love life or your career. I know that mostly it’s the second…”

“Fuck off, Eric.” Orlando stomped off to the bathroom. Eric watched him, grinning.

“I’m gonna go shower and call Sean.” He went to the bedroom, leaving the others to stare at the closed door.

 

“I thought you knew I was trying to change,” Orlando said quietly to Eric as they waited for Sean in the hotel restaurant.

“I do know that.” Eric sipped at his water. “I was just wondering, that’s all. I know you’re a bit testy about your career and how you look.”

“No, I’m not.” Orlando stared at Eric. “What’s going on? I thought you were on my side.”

“I am on your side, Orli, it’s just…you and Kate should just break up once and for all. She knows you’re gay, right?”

“Yes. I told her immediately…didn’t want to lead her along.”

“Well, just get her to announce that you’re breaking up with her…she can do it in a way that makes her look good.” Eric put a hand on his shoulder. “I want the best for you, mate. You’re doing your best to change your life around, and be more of what you know you are. Why live that lie?”

“I don’t know if I can come out like that, Eric.”

“I didn’t say come out. I said don’t live a lie,” Eric corrected, smiling over Orlando’s shoulder at Sean, who was approaching the table.

“Sorry I’m late. Bit o’traffic,” Sean said, falling into a chair between Eric and Elijah and dropping his napkin into his lap.

The group fell into casual conversation as they gave their order and later ate their food. “Hey, Sean. Why don’t you come out to the house later in the week? You don’t care, do you, Orli?” Elijah asked with his mouth full.

“Of course not. I love the fact that we can get together like this, like old times.” Orlando pushed his pasta around on his plate, thinking back to many nights spent with these men in New Zealand. Eric smiled, not feeling a bit left out.

“Not quite old times. No Ian, no John,” Billy said.

“No Viggo,” Dom added, earning a kick from Eric. “What?”

“So, we have some news for you,” Billy said, glaring at Dom. “We signed a contract yesterday.” He named a studio that made them all gasp.

“Oh, Bills, that’s amazing,” Orli said, holding up his wine glass. “Congratulations.”

“The part is still yours, Orli, if you want it,” Dom said. “We won’t start filming any time soon, but if you want it, we won’t even bother testing anyone else.”

“I’d love it.” Orlando laughed nervously. “It scares me to death, but it’s a fantastic part. Thanks, guys, for giving me a second chance.”

“To second chances,” Eric said suddenly, raising his glass. Everyone else chorused in and raised theirs as well.

 

Billy, Dom and Elijah all fell asleep during the ride back to Orlando’s house. He smiled, surprised that they could ever run out of steam. He got them awake enough to struggle into the house and to the guestrooms, then stopped by the kitchen, asking a few of the servants to bring up the bags and leave them in the hall outside the bedrooms. He himself took a long hot shower and climbed into bed, fully intent on getting a good night’s sleep. Sleep, however, was not quick to come.

 

Orlando had felt Viggo’s eyes on him all night. It was hard not to, especially when he himself kept looking at Viggo when he hoped no one was looking. Their new Ranger was such a melting pot of different things…strength, humor, intelligence, emotion. Sexiness, Orlando thought to himself. Don’t forget sexiness.

“Oi, I have an idea.” Billy slammed his mug down. “Let’s see who can seduce someone the fastest.”

“Like a stranger, or one of us,” Elijah said, eager to join in the game.

“Are you even old enough to play a game like this?” Sean Bean asked, earning the finger from Elijah.

“Let Orli go first. I bet he could teach us a few tricks,” Dom said. Orlando blushed. It wasn’t his fault that women fell over his shy smile and lithe body.

“Nah. Not interested.”

“C’mon, Orli. Give us a few of your lines. Elijah will take notes,” Billy said. Elijah kicked him.

“Not interested,” Orlando said. “Did I stutter?”

“Let me go first. What are the rules?” Viggo asked. Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Well, uh,” Billy said, surprised. “You have to see how long it takes you to get someone to leave with you. Whoever does it in the least amount of time, wins.”

“I see.” Viggo rubbed at his beard for a moment. He finished his beer and stood up.

“This should be fucking interesting,” Dom murmured.

“Aye,” Sean said, staring at Viggo.

Viggo pushed his chair back and looked around the room. He then went to the bar and ordered a shot of something, downing it immediately. He turned back around, walked a few steps, then turned to their table. He went around it the long way, ending up between Elijah and Orlando. He held out his hand to Orlando.

“Come home with me.”

Orlando gulped in a breath, staring up at Viggo. Viggo’s face was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were gentle. Orlando swallowed deeply. “Good night, boys.” He took Viggo’s hand, allowing Viggo to lead him out of the bar.

 

And that had been the beginning. It had started with a night of passionate sex, but the next day it had turned into a cozy getting-to-know-you session that lasted the entire day off. After that, they were almost inseparable. Orlando groaned and buried his face in his pillow. How could he have been so blind? No one spent that much time together if it was “just” sex. No one. He finally fell asleep, dreaming of Viggo’s hands on his body that first night.

 

Orlando was drinking tea on the small balcony off the dining room when Emily appeared. “Mr. Bean is here, Mr. Bloom.”

“Really?” The cup clinked down on its saucer. “I didn’t expect him for a few days.”

“He’s out front, and asks that you help him with his things,” she said in obvious disapproval. “I told him you were taking your breakfast and he said that you should, and I quote, move your skinny arse out there.”

Orlando shook his head. “If the hobbits…I mean, if my friends get up, please send them out here for breakfast, okay?”

“Of course, Mr. Bloom.”

Orlando slid his feet into his sandals, grumbling at Beanie under his breath. Just because he had decided to turn his life around and stop being a stuck up prick didn’t mean Beanie could order him around.

He opened the front door. “Beanie, what is so important that you can’t…” Orlando stared at the rental car in the drive. “…do it yourself,” he finished weakly, looking at Viggo, who seemed just as shocked to see him.


	12. Chapter 12

MY CONFESSION  
Twelve

 

Orlando opened his mouth and shut it, as his brain and vocal chords did not seem to be connected. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Viggo. Hello. Welcome to my home.” He took in Viggo’s tight blue jeans and grey sweatshirt, desperately wishing he himself were wearing something nicer than his oldest flannel pajama bottoms, plain white t-shirt with the big tear in the collar, and worn sandals.

“Hi, Orlando. Thank you. It’s a beautiful house.” Viggo stood frozen to the spot. “I…didn’t realize it was yours. Truly a gorgeous place.”

Orlando nodded his thanks and turned to Sean. “Beanie.”

“I’m gonna go apologize to that maid of yours. I think I insulted her.” Sean darted into the house before Orlando could yell.

“Housekeeper. She’s a housekeeper,” Orlando murmured absently. He was torn between following Sean and tearing him a brand spanking new arsehole, or staying and drinking in the beauty that was Viggo. He chose the latter, and prettier, of the two. He turned back to Viggo. “So. Uh, won’t you please come in? I was just having breakfast…the Hobbits are still in bed.”

“The Hobbits are here?” Viggo stood uncertainly.

“What exactly did Sean tell you?”

“That he was thinking of buying a house outside the city and wanted me to help him check it out. Wanted an artistic eye or something.” Viggo shook his head. “I’m really sorry, Orlando. I had no idea we were coming out here.”

“I knew he was coming, but I thought it was in a few days, alone.” Orlando motioned to the house. “Really, Vig. It’s chilly out here. Please come in.”

“Just until I can convince him to go,” Viggo finally said, following Orlando up the steps. “This place is something,” he added as they went inside.

Orlando snorted. “You should have seen it before. I was such an idiot. I let a designer fill the place with crap crap and more crap.” He pointed to some paintings on the wall in the foyer, graphic portraits of a battle during the Napoleonic Wars. “That’s the only thing I still have up in here, simply because I haven’t found anything else to put up there yet. I donated a pile of stuff to the town…” Orlando led the way through the rooms to the balcony.

“Do you really think they have a need for something like that?”

Orlando counted to ten before stopping and looking at Viggo. No need to bite his head off; what he was thinking was perfectly logical. “Well, they were building a new library at the school and were holding a fundraiser. They auctioned almost everything and kept the money.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Viggo sheepishly.

Orlando smiled, a shy smile that went right to Viggo’s heart. “Don’t be. Perfectly understandable.” He motioned to a small door. “Do you mind if I show you something?”

“Of course not. Lead on.” Viggo stepped back, allowing Orlando to walk ahead of him. His eyes ran the length of Orlando’s back, lingering on the tight backside under the baggy pajama pants.

“I actually, well…I hope it’s okay to say this. I picked everything in here absolutely by myself…and thought of you while I did it.” Orlando opened the door and moved aside so Viggo could walk in alone.

Viggo gave him a curious smile as he entered the tiny library. Bookshelves encircled the room, all going to about chest-high on Orlando. The rest of the walls were covered in paintings. A large desk sat by the window, made of the same light pine that decorated the rest of the room. Every painting was a landscape, except for one abstract by the door. “Oh, Orlando. These are gorgeous.” Viggo walked around, inspecting the paintings one by one.

“He’s local, believe it or not. A kid, really, only twenty. He has such promise…and not one day of education. All pure talent,” Orlando said proudly.

“Unbelievable.” Viggo finished his circle of the room and smiled at Orlando, who stood in the doorway. His smile faded as he noticed the abstract by the door. “Well, that’s not by a local artist.”

“No.” Orlando blushed slightly, brushing imaginary dust from the frame. “That’s…from my private collection.”

“I never thought you’d keep it.” Viggo bent down to squint at his own signature in the bottom of the painting.

“Are you serious?” Orlando gasped. Viggo stared at him and he cleared his throat. “I mean, hell, Vig, ya never know how much those things might be worth someday,” he tried to tease.

“Yes,” Viggo said, trying to smile back. “You, ah, mentioned something about breakfast?”

“Of course. Please follow me,” Orlando said politely, leading the way out to the balcony. They saw Sean and Elijah chatting at the small table. Orlando stopped walking. “We, uh…”

“I’m not so hungry, actually,” Viggo said. He didn’t want a confrontation with Sean in front of Elijah.

“You know what? I’m sure anything on that table we can find in the kitchen. Emily won’t be offended if we eat there. I end up there in the middle of the night most of the time anyway.” Orlando gave a small shrug. “I have a hard time making it through the night.”

He led the way down the stairs to the kitchen, his sandals slapping on the steps. “This place is a mansion,” Viggo commented.

Orlando gave a real smile. “I used to call it my “country house.” I originally liked the idea of having a big place that made me look gentry and titled.”

“And now?”

“Now I think it could be home.” Orlando ran a hand over the worn wooden railing. “It has history. A king or two has slept here. A duchess was murdered here. Babies were born here, titled men died here. It just has something. I’m glad I realized it, though, before I buried it all under that designer bullshit.” He opened the creaking door and led Viggo into the kitchen. “State of the art appliances and such…but that’s the original fireplace.” Orlando pointed to the large brick hole in the wall. “Emily actually bakes bread in there…and I think we still have…” He dug through cupboards until he found a wrapped loaf. “Here. And milk…” Orlando opened the large refrigerator and pulled out milk and cheese. “Made by a local dairy,” he said almost proudly.

Viggo sat down, allowing Orlando to serve him. “You belong here about a hundred and fifty years ago,” he said before he thought.

Orlando smiled. “That is the best compliment I’ve had in a long time.” He gave Viggo a plate of bread and cheese before sitting down himself. “I can make you coffee if you…”

“No. I’ve had three cups already today. Thanks.” Viggo bit into the bread. “Delicious.”

Orlando smiled at Viggo, resisting the urge to reach over and brush the crumbs from Viggo’s chin. “I really did have no clue you were coming today,” he said instead. “Shocked the hell outta me.”

“Me, too. I may have to throttle him,” Viggo said.

“I’ll help. I might not do so much of the throttling, but I can hold him down,” Orlando offered.

“It might be a two man job,” Viggo agreed. He chewed thoughtfully, looking around the dark kitchen and back at Orlando. “You look happy here.”

“Yeah,” Orlando said, nodding slowly. “I can hide here. As far as I know, the people in the town don’t say much about me…I can keep a low profile. They don’t get the rumor rags, they don’t watch Entertainment Tonight.” He ducked his head, curls falling over his eyes. “I don’t have to hear about my career or lack thereof, my marriage or lack thereof, my talent or lack thereof.”

“I guess you do have a lot to hide from.” Viggo had never truly considered that. He was lucky in that he could still pretty much blend into a crowd.

“I know it’s childish, really, not to face my life, but sometimes you need a safe haven,” Orlando said, studying the table.

“Hey.” Viggo put a finger under Orlando’s chin, tilting it up before he could stop himself. “You’re not a child. It’s okay to need sanctuary sometimes.” Viggo blushed slightly. “I had no right telling you to grow up. You’re definitely a man now.”

“Even though I’ve been acting like a spoiled brat lately?” Orlando said. His eyes closed as he concentrated on the touch of Viggo’s finger.

“Yeah, you have,” Viggo agreed. His hand shook slightly as his palm came up to cup the soft cheek. “But you’re most definitely a man.”

Orlando swallowed deeply, letting his cheek rest in Viggo’s palm before his eyes fluttered open. “I’ve always thought that being a man meant owning up to your mistakes. And fuck but I’ve made a lot, especially when it comes to you. I’m so sorry, Viggo.” Orlando turned his head, planting a soft kiss in Viggo’s palm. “You were right. All along. I was afraid to be myself. I put my career before my heart, and before yours, too. I fell in love with you the second your lips met mine, and I hid it. I lived a lie. I’ve been living it ever since, and I’m sorry.” Orlando blinked back tears, tears of relief as well as loss. “I wanted you to know. No matter what we become from now on, friends or not, I wanted you to know that you were right and that I was a twat, in Beanie’s words.” Orlando chuckled slightly at the word. “And I still love you. Never EVER stopped.”

“We’ll still be friends,” Viggo murmured, his eyes drinking in the face he loved. “But I hope it’s something more.” His hand slid around to the back of Orlando’s neck, pulling him forward for a tender kiss.


	13. Chapter 13

MY CONFESSION  
Thirteen

 

Orlando allowed himself to be pulled into the kiss, moaning slightly as he felt Viggo’s strong fingers weave up into his curls. He braced himself with a hand on Viggo’s shoulder, never wanting to let go.

Finally Viggo released him, both of them panting for breath. “Should I be apologizing for that?” Viggo asked.

“Not on my behalf,” Orlando said, his laugh a bit shaky. “I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed quite like that before.”

“Good.” Viggo looked pleased with himself, then grew serious. “Now what?”

Orlando thought for a moment. “You have bags out in Sean’s car?” Viggo nodded. “Get them and go upstairs. Turn right and go into the last room on the left. Wait for me there.” Viggo blinked at this newly authoritative Orlando but did as he said.

Orlando hurried upstairs, trying and failing to hide the immense joy rushing through him. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Orli,” Billy said with his mouth full. “Sounds like Beanie’s playing matchmaker.”

“I know. Remember how we were gonna go run around a bit today?” Orlando asked. The Hobbits, who by now were all eating breakfast, nodded as one. “I won’t be able to make it, but you guys go on. Take Beanie with you. The driver can take you wherever you want to go.”

“What’s up?” Elijah asked.

“I’ll be in bed most of the day,” Orlando said, turning on one heel and leaving the balcony.

“Where’s Viggo?” Dom called.

Sean, Elijah and Billy stared at him. “Are you serious? Where’s Viggo?” Sean asked. Dom stared at him.

“Oh. OH.”

 

The door to the guestroom was open, and Orlando marched right in. “This is gorgeous,” Viggo said softly, looking around at the room decorated in browns and dark reds.

“I always think of this room as autumn…I thought it would suit you.” Orlando nodded to a closed door in the wall. “And also, that door leads into the master suite. I think this was a nursery or something.” He fidgeted. “I didn’t want to, well, assume, but I…”

“So, that’s your room?” Viggo interrupted. Orlando nodded and watched Viggo open the door and go into the master suite. He followed quickly and saw Viggo walk around the room, inspecting furniture and knickknacks.

“The bedroom’s there…master bath…” Orlando pointed nervously. “So, yeah. I can hide myself away completely in here.”

“I would.” Viggo moved to look out the large picture window. “Beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Orlando said, his eyes never leaving Viggo’s face.

Viggo turned around and walked back across the room. He ignored Orlando, going past him to shut the connecting door between the rooms. He then went to the bedroom door and opened it, looking inside. Orlando silently prayed that he hadn’t left clothes and sheets everywhere. He went in without comment, and Orlando slowly followed. When he reached the doorway, Viggo was sitting on the edge of the bed without his shirt on. Orlando forced himself not to gape. Viggo’s eyes never left Orlando’s face. “I’m not letting you break my heart again. We can have a really good fuck here, fuck all week, as a matter of fact, but I won’t let you break my heart. If this is just sex again, clue me in before it all goes down.”

“Viggo,” Orlando said sadly. He walked over and put a hand on Viggo’s shoulder. “Did you miss the part where I admitted to being a twat and said I loved you? I wasn’t saying that to get you into bed. I was saying it because it’s the truth, and because I want you in my life again.”

“Good.” Viggo tugged Orlando down, falling onto the bed with Orlando on top of him. “Um, what did you tell everyone?” Viggo’s tongue licked at Orlando’s neck as he pulled at Orlando’s t-shirt.

“I would be in bed all day and they should go sightseeing on their own,” Orlando said breathlessly, arching his neck to give Viggo better access.

“Fuck,” Viggo growled, struggling with the shirt and finally tearing the worn fabric.

Orlando moaned, rolling to his back and pulling Viggo with him. Viggo shoved the shreds of Orlando’s shirt aside, bending his head to taste Orlando’s chest. “Missed you…so much, Vig…no one else…” Orlando panted.

“I know, Elf. Me too.” Viggo slid an arm under Orlando’s back. “This isn’t hurting you, is it?” He sucked on a dark nipple and Orlando hissed.

“I don’t care. I don’t care if you fuck me so hard you break my back again. I just need you…” Orlando fisted his hands in Viggo’s hair, bringing him up for a hot kiss.

“You and your dirty talk,” Viggo growled. “Always drove me crazy.”

“I’ve had years to think about what I want you to do to me, and I plan on telling you every single idea, every fantasy,” Orlando hissed in his ear. “Once we’re naked.” Viggo pulled back, standing up to quickly get rid of his clothes. Orlando laughed at him, laughing harder as Viggo yanked and tugged until Orlando was naked as well. “I love you so much, Viggo.”

Viggo stopped, staring down at Orlando’s naked body. “I love you, too, Orlando.” He slowly crawled up Orlando’s body, laying down so they aligned perfectly. “So much.” His kiss was tender, and Orlando sighed as his hands moved to trace up and down Viggo’s back.

Viggo grabbed Orlando’s arms, slowly pulling them up to rest above Orlando’s head. Orlando turned his head, giving Viggo better access to his sensitive throat and neck. “I want this,” Orlando sighed. “But there’s one problem.”

“Hmmm?” Viggo murmured against Orlando’s shoulder.

“I…well, I have lube. Butnocondoms,” he blurted out. Viggo pulled back and looked at him. “I don’t bring people here, Vig, and there’s hardly been anyone since you. Lube’s a given, I mean, a man has to take care of himself now and then, but…” Viggo kissed Orlando into silence, and Orlando could feel Viggo’s laughter against his mouth. “Fuck you, old man.” He playfully shoved Viggo away.

“Hold on.” Viggo crawled off the bed. “Where’s your cell?”

“On the desk. What, are you planning on calling the condom fairy?” Orlando said with a giggle.

“Sorta.” Viggo picked up the phone and worked through Orlando’s address book. “Hey, Beanie. Viggo.” Orlando screamed with laughter, burying his face in his pillow. “I need a condom.” Viggo blinked. “TELL me you didn’t just ask me WHY. I need one. Do I need to call Elijah and embarrass the shit out of you?” Viggo paused. “Okay. Thank you. Top of the stairs, master suite.” Viggo ended the call.

By this time Orlando was in tears. “He…he asked you why?”

“Beanie was always a little slow on the uptake. I’ll be right back.” Viggo went back out into the sitting room, answering the knock stark naked.

“Aw, fuck, Vig, that’s just wrong.” Bean covered his eyes with one hand, holding out the condom in the other.

“Thanks, Sean. You’re a good friend.” Viggo shut the door in his friend’s face, returning to the bedroom. “Where were we?”

Orlando tried to contain the giggles that still spilled forth. “I don’t even know.”

Viggo put the condom within arm’s reach and fell back onto the bed, spreading Orlando’s legs and taking his cock into his mouth in almost one fluid motion. Orlando hissed and arched up. Viggo held him down at the hips, licking and sucking as if a man possessed. “Missed you…missed the taste and smell and feel of you.”

“God, Viggo…” Orlando pulled at Viggo’s hair. “You NEED to stop. It won’t…I’ll…”

“Oh, no you don’t, pretty elf.” Viggo came up to kiss Orlando once more, an evil glint in his eye. “You’re not cumming until you’re around my cock.”

“Fuck…and you said I talk dirty…” Orlando motioned with his hand. “Drawer. Lube in that drawer.”

Viggo leaned across the bed and dug for the lubricant. When he rolled back to Orlando, the younger man’s eyes were closed. “Are you okay?” Viggo’s voice was concerned.

“Fine.” The long lashes fluttered open. “I just…I keep thinking this is a dream. I dream about you all the time, but this is one dream I never ever hoped would come true.”

Viggo smiled, running a finger across Orlando’s forehead. “When I’m done with you, you’ll know it’s real.” A lube-slicked finger moved inside of Orlando. “You’re going to feel me for DAYS.”

“Yes, Viggo, that’s what I want.” Orlando could only imagine how wanton he looked, arching and writhing under Viggo’s touch.

“You won’t be able to sit without remembering me inside you.” Viggo added another finger, knowing that Orlando didn’t mind hasty preparation. “You’re gonna ache.”

“Please, Viggo, now…make me feel it,” Orlando begged. Viggo sheathed himself with the condom, adding a small amount of lube to ease his way.

“I’ve been dreaming of this, too,” he said, moving inside ever so slowly. Orlando cried out, his legs wrapping around Viggo’s waist and urging him on. “You feel better than I remembered.”

“Yes, Viggo, please…” Orlando’s fingernails dug into Viggo’s back.

“My pleasure.” Viggo gave Orlando a brutal kiss, biting down on Orlando’s bottom lip before thrusting in at a rapid pace.

Orlando was thankful that his bed wasn’t tight against the wall, because he knew it would be knocking against it. He held on for dear life, loving the feeling of Viggo going deeper and deeper inside of him. Viggo’s teeth bit so hard on his shoulder that he swore he felt blood. “Viggo, I fucking love you.” He grabbed Viggo by the hair, pulling him up for another kiss.

“You used to be able to cum without being touched, Orlando. Can you still do it?”

Orlando moaned at the thought. “I only…ever did it…with you,” he said between thrusts.

The thought made Viggo groan with him. “Do it for me now, Orli…fucking cum with me inside you…let my cock make you cum so hard you fucking forget your name.”

“Viggo!” Orlando kept repeating Viggo’s name as he obeyed, cumming the hardest he could ever remember. He continued to whisper the name as he shivered in Viggo’s arms, for Viggo continued to thrust, moving inside until his own orgasm took him over as well.

Viggo let himself gently collapse onto Orlando, not caring that Orlando’s release was smeared between their stomachs. “Oh, baby.” Viggo’s mouth was everywhere, kissing Orlando’s shoulders, his eyelids, his chin. “That was…”

“I know…” Orlando ran a hand through Viggo’s sweaty hair, smoothing it off Viggo’s face. His smile was almost shy. “Just like riding a bike.”

Viggo chuckled. “And who is the bike in this little scenario?”

Orlando slapped him. “Get up, filthy human. I’m going to get a cloth or something.”

Viggo made himself move to the side and Orlando got up, heading for the bathroom. Viggo was almost asleep when something cold hit his back with a hard slap. “Thanks a lot!”

“You’re welcome,” Orlando said, smiling sweetly. Viggo cursed at him as he cleaned himself up. He tossed the cloth back to Orlando, who once again disappeared into the bathroom.

As Orlando came out of the bathroom, something caught his eye. The painting was still in its brown paper, leaning against the wall of the sitting room. He went over to it, still naked, and slowly unwrapped it. The power of the memories flew back to him, hitting him so intensely that he had to sit down. He reached out with a shaking hand, touching the reds and browns on the canvas.

“So much fucking wasted time,” he whispered out loud, drawing his knees up and leaning his chin on them. He sat for a long time, silently staring at the painting created by the hands he loved most in the world.

Viggo snorted awake, realizing that he was alone in the bed. He stretched and got up, walking across the empty bedroom. He poked his head in the sitting room, prepared to call Orlando’s name, but stopped when he saw the huddled figure on the floor. “Orlando? Are you…” Viggo walked over and paused. “Oh.”

“I never hung it up,” Orlando said, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. “I bought it because no one else could possibly have it. No one else would understood how it was done…what inspired you to make it. But then I couldn’t hang it up. It reminded me of how fucking STUPID I was, what a spoiled child.” He looked up at Viggo, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Viggo, I was such a baby, such a fool. I let you go, made you put your fears and pain into a fucking painting instead of talking everything out with you. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, Orli.” Viggo sat next to him, drawing Orlando into his arms. “It’s done now. We’re fixing it, aren’t we?”

“Yes. But not enough. It can never be enough. I’m not ashamed anymore, and I want everyone to know it.” Orlando sniffed hard, wiping his face again. “I’ll go on fucking CNN if I have to. Everyone should know.”

“That’s not necessary, though I appreciate it,” Viggo said, pushing Orlando’s curls away from his face. “How about this…we don’t make a spectacle of ourselves, but when the time comes, we tell the truth?”

Orlando looked up at Viggo. “How do you put up with me?”

“I love you, silly elf. You’re worth putting up with.”

 _Now I feel myself surrender, each time I see your face…I am captured by your beauty, your unassuming grace. And I feel my heart is turning, falling into place.  
I can't hide now hear my confession._

THE END


End file.
